#Isabelle x Chaos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cressidagrey · 2 months ago

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White Horse - Chapter 24: June 2024 - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes:

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/F1TeaSpiller: GUYS. BELLE LECLERC JUST CHANGED HER INSTAGRAM USERNAME. SHE'S NOW @/belleverstappen. I REPEAT. @/belleverstappen.

🔗 (screenshot)

@/MonacoRoyalty: WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

@/RedBullTroll33: So you’re telling me… Isabelle. LECLERC. is now VERSTAPPEN?????

I need to lie down.

@/FerrariF1Pain: I THOUGHT I WAS HALLUCINATING WHEN I SAW THE NAME CHANGE. SHE REALLY MARRIED MAX. AND THEY DIDN’T TELL A SOUL. ICONIC BEHAVIOR TBH.

@/F1MemeLord: Charles: forgot Belle’s birthday Belle: changed her last name to Verstappen in front of the entire internet Me: poetic cinema.

@/gridgossip:

EVERYONE WAKE UP

BELLE LECLERC IS NOW BELLE VERSTAPPEN

MAX MARRIED CHARLES' SISTER AND DIDN'T TELL ANYONE

IM SHAKING

@/gridgossip:

This is the softest, coldest, most brutal reveal of all time.

No announcement.

No photo dump.

No grand post.

Just a silent name change.

And now the whole grid is screaming.

@/f1memequeen: MAX VERSTAPPEN SECRETLY MARRIED CHARLES LECLERC’S BABY SISTERAND THEY SOFT LAUNCHED WITH A HORSE AND A USERNAME UPDATE

THIS IS CINEMA.

@/F1ChaosClub: how it started: "whose hand gave max tea on stream??"

how it's going: "max verstappen is married to belle leclerc and nobody knew and now the internet is on fire"

@/TifosiTears: charles leclerc is about to log on and have the worst 24 hours of his life i fear 💀

@/MaxIsWinning: max verstappen winning on and off the track as per usual 😌

@/WifeGuyMax: max verstappen, known cat dad and now confirmed wife guy. we love character development 💍🐎🐈

@/GridChaosDaily: the grid when they realize belle verstappen = belle leclerc = max’s wife = charles’s sister = absolute chaos

(photo attached: stock photo of a man having a breakdown)

@/FerrariTears: Charles finding out his sister is now Belle Verstappen because of Instagram is the level of sibling drama we deserve in 2024.

@/TifosiMess: Prediction:

Charles: 🧍‍♂️😭

Arthur: 🧍‍♂️😵‍💫

Lorenzo: 🧍‍♂️😳

Pascale: 🧍‍♀️🫠 Meanwhile Belle and Max: 🏇🏡❤️

@/MonacoRoyalty: So let me get this straight:

Belle disappears for weeks

Drops a horse like it’s a handbag

Soft launches her new life

NOW SHE'S A VERSTAPPEN?? I NEED TO LIE DOWN.

@/LandoSimp44: some of you OWE the soft launch detectives an apology. they said it. they were RIGHT.

@/RedBullUpdates MAX. VERSTAPPEN. MARRIED. BELLE. LECLERC. AND THEY HID IT FROM US FOR HOW LONG???

@/FerrariPain: the way the Leclerc brothers are probably finding this out at the SAME TIME AS US 😭😭😭

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso, Kimi Räikkönen, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sergeant, Esteban Ocon, Lance Stroll and Valtteri Bottas)

Lando: HOLY SH*T

Lando: HOLD ON

Lando: SHUT UP EVERYONE

Lando: sends screenshot of @belleverstappen

Oscar: OH MY GOD

Daniel: I AM SCREAMING INTO A PILLOW

Lewis: I’m sorry. Am I hallucinating?? Because that says Verstappen. Not Leclerc.

George: BELLE. VERSTAPPEN. BELLE. FREAKING. VERSTAPPEN.

Carlos: Belle… changed her name…

Zhou: I THOUGHT I WAS READY BUT I WAS NOT READY

George: DID THAT JUST HAPPEN LIVE???

Carlos: I need a drink.

Alex: I AM SCREAMING.

Sebastian: Honestly? About time. Good for her.

Oscar: SHE CHANGED HER USERNAME TO BELLE VERSTAPPEN. THAT'S IT. THAT'S THE ANNOUNCEMENT.

Fernando: Max said "no press release, no statement, just pure chaos."

Daniel: Can we talk about the absolute audacity???

Zhou: Max dropping "I’m married" casually during a press conference and Belle changing her name quietly the night before Spain is PEAK Verstappen behavior.

Lando: I’m gonna cry. She’s not even dramatic about it. Just boop name change.

George: Meanwhile Charles is somewhere punching a wall.

Carlos: somewhere? Try several walls.

Lewis: No but seriously—Belle just silently won the whole internet.

Logan: It’s not even loud drama. It’s silent nuclear bomb energy.

Nico R.: Charles is probably Googling "how to politely kidnap your sister back."

Checo: Max playing 4D chess while Charles plays Candy Crush.

Fernando: And still losing at Candy Crush.

Kimi: Wake me up when someone crashes a press conference about it.

Oscar: Okay but real talk. I’m SO proud of her.

Lando: Same.

Lewis: She chose her happiness over their comfort. Respect.

Esteban: Someone check on Charles.

Fernando: No, no, let him suffer a bit longer. Character development.

Lance: Wait does this mean Max is Charles’ BROTHER-IN-LAW now???

Oscar: i just had a full body shiver

David: I would pay so much money for footage of Fred Vasseur reading this right now.

Mark: I would pay more to see Christian Horner's face.

George: NO ONE TELL PIERRE. Let’s just see what happens.

Logan: What if Belle walks into the paddock tomorrow wearing Verstappen merch. I would pass away.

Lewis: Max really married the one girl Charles forgot to look at properly. Poetic.

Nico R.: This is better than any soap opera I’ve ever seen.

Sebastian: Not Max breaking Ferrari and Leclerc family morale in one move. That’s championship material.

Oscar: Belle really said "forget my birthday? Watch this."

Carlos: Reminder: Max said he’s bringing her to the paddock tomorrow.

George: THEY’RE GOING PUBLIC IN PERSON TOO???

Oscar: CHAOS. COMPLETE CHAOS.

Alex: I have popcorn ready.

Lando: I'm not ready.

Daniel: None of us are.

***

Charles didn’t mean to open Instagram.

It had become a form of self-torture lately—every scroll a reminder of the silence on the other end of his unanswered texts, of the messages left on read, of the birthday that no one in the family had remembered except Belle herself.

But his thumb moved on autopilot during breakfast, and there it was.

Not a post. Not a story.

A name.

@belleverstappen

Charles blinked. Froze. Then blinked again.

No. That couldn’t be right.

He opened her profile.

Same photos. His sister’s profile.

Charles stared at the screen.

Then he read the handle again.

@belleverstappen.

Verstappen.

A cold sweat started to gather at the back of his neck.

“Non… non non non…” Charles muttered, sitting bolt upright in his chair.

Across the hotel room, Alexandra looked up from her hair straightener. “What now?”

“Arthur,” he said, too sharp, holding his phone up like it was infected. “Look at this.”

Arthur, still halfway through a bowl of cereal, leaned over and squinted. He choked immediately.

“No. No, no, no. She didn’t.”

“She did!” Charles said, nearly tripping over his chair. “She changed her name!”

Arthur shoved his cereal away like it had personally betrayed him. “Wait—what does that mean? Did she get married? Wait, is this real?”

“What does it mean?” Charles asked, genuinely baffled. “Why would she—what—Why Verstappen?”

And then, like a bolt of catastrophic lightning:

“Oh my god. Is Jos Verstappen her sugar daddy??”

A sound of pure horror came from behind him.

“CHARLES!” Alexandra snapped. “What the hell?!”

Arthur looked like he had been personally insulted by the sentence. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m just saying—Verstappen! She’s going by Verstappen!”

Charles was already pacing. “She was always weirdly polite to Jos. Maybe he—maybe it’s him.He’s always lurking around the paddock! And she moved out a year ago and never told us. She quit her job. Someone’s clearly supporting her!”

Arthur looked horrified. “Charles. Please. That’s insane.”

Alexandra looked at Charles like he’d grown a second head. “You do realize Jos Verstappen is married, right? Like, currently. Publicly. Has been for years.”

“I saw her smile at Jos in Monaco!” Charles snapped. “And she said he was polite to her at the garage and she’s been so—so secretive and she quit her job and she got a horse—”

“CHARLES,” Alexandra interrupted, hands in the air. “Jos Verstappen is married.”

Charles blinked. “What?”

Arthur groaned and threw a pillow across the room. “Oh my god. This is actually the stupidest conclusion you’ve reached this month, and I was the one that thought Belle was being kept by a sugar daddy with a skincare routine.”

“IT MAKES SENSE AT THE TIME,” Charles insisted.

There was a knock, and Nicholas Todt stepped into the room, holding his tablet with the solemn expression of a man walking into a fire.

“Tell me this is not real,” Nicholas said, holding up a screenshot of Belle’s Instagram page.

“Oh, it’s real,” Arthur said, grimacing.

“Charles, please tell me this is not the first time you’re hearing about this.”

Charles opened and closed his mouth.

Nicholas pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down heavily. “This is a PR disaster. If the media connects her to Max—”

“Wait,” Charles said slowly. “Why would the media connect her to Max?”

Everyone turned.

“You’re joking,” Alexandra said.

“What?” Charles asked, defensive.

“She changed her name to Verstappen,” Nicolas deadpanned. “What do you think it is?”

“She can’t be married to Max!” Charles blurted. “Someone would’ve told me!”

Joris, who had been quiet until now, finally looked up from his coffee with the most satisfied look on his face.

Joris shrugged. “Good for her.”

Charles stared. “Good for—what?”

“She’s been invisible to all of you for years,” Joris said bluntly. “And now she’s making herself seen. About damn time.”

Charles looked between them all, suddenly feeling like he was at the center of a soap opera everyone else had watched already.

“No,” he whispered. “It can’t be Max.”

Arthur looked vaguely nauseous. Joris looked like he had several things to say and none of them were polite.

Charles could feel the room closing in. “This is not happening.”

“I actually thought it might be Zhou,” Alexandra said mildly. “Or Lewis. They’re both polite. Hot. Emotionally intelligent.”

“Okay, please stop talking,” Charles groaned.

Arthur sat down beside him. “Do you think she’ll be at the paddock tomorrow?”

“If she shows up wearing Verstappen gear, I’m gonna throw myself in the gravel,” Charles muttered.

Alexandra raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re going to smile, and wave, and act like a supportive brother who didn’t forget she existed.”

"Max," he repeated dumbly. "Max Verstappen. My biggest rival. The guy who stole my karting trophies when we were twelve."

Arthur shrugged. "Apparently, he didn’t just steal your trophies."

Alexandra smirked behind her hand.

Nicolas rubbed his temples like he had a migraine.

Charles sat down heavily in the nearest chair, completely and utterly defeated.

Belle was married. To Max Verstappen. And the whole world knew.

Everyone except him.

She hadn’t said a word.

She’d just changed her name.

And somehow, that said everything.

****

Text Messages: Arthur Leclerc & Lorenzo Leclerc

Arthur: hey you up?

Lorenzo: I am now. What’s going on?

Arthur: don’t freak out but we need to tell maman something before she finds out from the internet

Lorenzo: Arthur. Tell me now.

Arthur: Isabelle changed her Instagram username. It’s belleverstappen now.

Lorenzo: … what.

Arthur: like not “dating” Verstappen not “soft launch” Verstappen I mean she married him she’s married like legally. emotionally. spiritually. all of it.

Lorenzo: What do you MEAN she’s married to Max Verstappen?! When?! How?! WHY didn’t we KNOW?!

Arthur: because we were all too busy forgetting her birthday and ignoring her for years? just a theory. 🙃

Lorenzo: Jesus Christ. Does Charles know?

Arthur: not until like five minutes ago. he thought she was dating JOS I’m not kidding.

Lorenzo: … of course he did.

Arthur: look can you please talk to maman like right now because the whole paddock is going to know soon and if she sees this online first she’s going to cry and then go full French Catholic guilt spiral and none of us are emotionally prepared for that

Lorenzo: On it.

Arthur: thank you.

Good luck

***

Group Chat: GRID 2024

Members: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz Jr., Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Logan Sergeant, Daniel Ricciardo, Nico Hülkenberg, Lance Stroll, Fernando Alonso, Sergio Pérez, Esteban Ocon, Zhou Guanyu, Logan Sargeant, Pierre Gasly, Yuki Tsunoda, and Valtteri Bottas

Charles: MAX. ANSWER YOUR PHONE.

Charles: TELL ME THIS ISN’T TRUE. TELL ME THIS IS SOME STUPID INTERNET RUMOUR. MAX. DID YOU MARRY MY SISTER?

Max: Yes.

Charles: AND YOU LET ME WALK AROUND THE PADDOCK FOR WEEKS LIKE AN IDIOT.

Max: We got married in Monaco. She wanted to keep it private.

Charles: YOU GOT MARRIED AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME??

Charles: YOU DIDN’T THINK I DESERVED TO KNOW THAT MY BABY SISTER WAS MARRYING MY BIGGEST RIVAL??

Pierre: wait wait wait what do you mean married Isabelle???

Yuki: SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHAT IS HAPPENING

Carlos: Charles—

Charles: HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TOGETHER? HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN A THING??

Carlos: Over a year.

Charles: I’M GOING TO SCREAM.

Charles: I’m going to absolutely LOSE MY MIND. You’ve all been lying to me. For MONTHS.

Charles: WHO KNEW?? I WANT A FULL LIST. RIGHT NOW. I SWEAR I WILL GO THROUGH PHONE RECORDS.

Lewis: It wasn’t our secret to tell.

George: They weren’t hiding it to hurt you. They were protecting each other.

Lando: Also, you literally forgot her birthday. You don’t exactly have the moral high ground here.

Charles: SHE’S MY SISTER.

Max: She’s my wife. Stop yelling like you own her.

Charles: SHE’S FAMILY.

Max: This isn’t about you, Charles.

Charles: SHE IS MY SISTER. MY FAMILY. AND NONE OF YOU THOUGHT I MIGHT WANT TO KNOW SHE MARRIED SOMEONE WHO’S BEEN TRYING TO BEAT ME SINCE KARTING.

Oscar: She didn’t forget to tell you. She chose not to.

Charles: SHUT UP, OSCAR.

Carlos: Hey.

Charles: NO. YOU TOO. YOU REMEMBERED HER BIRTHDAY. AND YOU SAID NOTHING.

Carlos: Because she asked me to. Because she knew you’d react exactly like this.

Charles: SO MY SISTER MARRIES MAX VERSTAPPEN AND I’M THE VILLAIN??

Max: You remember that now?

Charles: You think this is funny?

Max: No. I think it’s sad. That it took a ring on her finger and a horse on Instagram for you to realize she was gone.

Charles: You went behind my back. You should have told me.

Max: She didn’t want to. And I respect her choices. Which is more than I can say for you.

Charles: I’M HER BROTHER.

Max: Then maybe act like it. Because right now? You’re just noise.

George: Charles, this isn’t about you anymore.

Alex: It’s about Belle. And how she had to build a new life because her old one didn’t see her.

Oscar: And Max did.

Max:If you're done shouting, maybe try asking yourself why she trusted me with her future and not you.

Charles: …

Yuki: can someone please give me a recap. i feel like i skipped six seasons.

Pierre: I JUST FOUND OUT HE MARRIED HER AND NOW HE’S DRAGGING CHARLES INTO THE VOID I NEED TO LIE DOWN

Daniel: someone get Pierre a fan, he’s hyperventilating.

Charles: EVERYONE SHUT UP. EVERYONE JUST STOP.

Charles: I’M FINDING HER. SHE’S AT THE TRACK, RIGHT? I’M FINDING HER RIGHT NOW.

Lewis: Charles.

Charles: WHAT.

Lewis: Do not ambush her. You don’t get to demand explanations from someone you forgot how to see.

Charles: I DIDN’T—

George: You forgot her birthday, Charles.

Oscar: You didn’t notice when she moved. You didn’t notice when she quit her job. You didn’t notice when she stopped showing up to family events.

Carlos: You didn’t notice her.

Charles: I just want to talk to her.

Max: Then wait until she’s ready. You’ve taken a lot of things from her, Charles. You don’t get to take this, too.

Charles: You don’t get to talk to me about what I’ve taken.

Max: No? Then let me talk to you about what you didn’t give her.

Max: Time. Attention. Respect. Support.

Max: All the things she gave you without question. All the things you never gave back.

Yuki: i’m so uncomfortable but also very invested

Pierre: i feel like we should log off

Charles: ...is anyone going to back me up here?

Esteban: You kind of lost the moral high ground at “is she dating Jos.”

Logan: ngl we all knew but we also knew you’d react like this.

Lewis: This isn’t about us. It’s about her. You need to let her decide if and when she wants to let you back in.

Charles: She’s my sister.

Max: She’s my wife.

Max: And if you ever want a place in her life again, maybe start by realizing you don’t get to gatekeep her happiness.

Carlos: Max. Enough.

Max: I’m done.

The rest is up to her.

Not me.

And sure as hell not you.

***

Pascale Leclerc had always prided herself on knowing her children.

She had lived through the chaos of karting and exam seasons, through Arthur’s scraped knees and Charles’ broken hearts, through Lorenzo’s silent strength and Isabelle’s quiet brilliance.

She had watched them grow up like a garden — each one different, wild in their own way, but hers.

And yet now, as she stood in her kitchen — untouched tea cooling in her hands — she felt like she was staring at a house that had quietly caught fire.

And she hadn’t even smelled the smoke.

Lorenzo stood by the doorway, tense but calm in that way only he could be.

He had always been the family’s voice of reason, the one who didn’t panic, who showed up with logistics when the others brought emotions.

But tonight, there was something sharp beneath his composure. A tightness around the mouth. A shadow in his voice.

“Something happened,” Pascale had said, the moment he arrived.

Lorenzo didn’t answer right away.

He looked at her — really looked at her — like he wasn’t sure how to begin. Like he was about to hand her a truth that couldn’t be unspoken.

“Isabelle got married,” he said quietly.

The words didn’t register at first. Not fully.

They sat in the air, strange and unfamiliar, like hearing a sentence in a language she hadn’t spoken in years.

“What?” Pascale asked, blinking.

“Isabelle,” Lorenzo said again, slowly. “She got married. A few weeks ago. In Monaco.”

Her breath caught.

“To who?”

Lorenzo hesitated. “Max Verstappen.”

The name hit harder than the sentence.

Pascale lowered herself into the nearest chair like her legs no longer trusted her.

“She’s… married,” she said, tasting the word. “To Max. And we didn’t even know?”

Lorenzo sat across from her. “We didn’t even know she was in a relationship, Maman. We didn’t know she moved. That she quit her job. We didn’t know anything.”

Pascale stared at the table, at her own hands folded around a now-cold mug.

It was her fault.

Hers.

Because she had believed silence meant peace. She had assumed that just because Isabelle didn’t complain, she was content.

And in doing so, she had let her daughter disappear. Slowly. Quietly. Without fanfare.

“She didn’t want us to know?” Pascale asked, voice small.

“No,” Lorenzo said gently. “Because we’ve given her every reason to believe we only care when it’s convenient. When it’s public. When it’s about Charles.”

Pascale felt her eyes sting. “I thought… I thought she would come to me, if it was serious.”

“She did,” Lorenzo said, not unkindly. “She just stopped waiting for us to see her.”

Pascale pressed a hand over her mouth.

“I didn’t even know she still believed in love,” she whispered. “After everything we asked her to give up. After everything we never gave back.”

“She did,” Lorenzo said. “And he gives it to her.”

Silence stretched between them — thick with guilt and revelation.

“I missed her wedding,” Pascale said softly.

“We all did,” Lorenzo replied. “But we don’t have to miss everything else.”

Pascale’s hand trembled as she set the tea aside. It sloshed slightly over the rim — unnoticed.

“I missed her wedding,” she repeated, more to herself than to Lorenzo.

He didn’t speak. He knew better than to offer hollow comfort.

“I missed her,” Pascale whispered. “I missed everything.”

The silence sat heavy between them, stretching until it felt like a second skin. Pascale reached for her phone on the table — out of habit, out of desperation — and stared at the screen like it might offer her redemption.

A single name burned in her memory.

Isabelle.

Her thumb hovered, hesitating over old messages, until finally, she opened the thread.

It was all still there. Every breadcrumb of her failure.

Ma chérie… I didn’t realise. I thought I messaged you, but I sent it to Charles by mistake. That’s not an excuse. You deserved more. Always. Please let me come see you. I miss you.

Even reading it now, Pascale felt the shame wash through her like floodwater.

It was a lie. She had forgotten.

Not just the day. Not just the message.

She had forgotten her daughter — in the way that mattered most.

“I lied to her,” Pascale said aloud, her voice cracking.

Lorenzo closed his eyes like he was bracing for a storm. “Maman…”

“When I messaged her,” Pascale said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “After I forgot her birthday. I didn’t want her to think I forgot. I told her I meant to text her — that I accidentally sent it to Charles instead. But that wasn’t true. I did. I forgot. I forgot the day she was born. And then I lied because I couldn’t bear the thought of her knowing that. I didn’t remember until Charles reminded us. I lied to make it seem like I hadn’t failed her. But I did. I have. Over and over again.”

Lorenzo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I told myself she was strong. That she didn’t need as much,” Pascale continued, tears now slipping freely down her cheeks. “She didn’t fight for attention. She didn’t make noise. She just… quietly endured. I thought that meant she was fine.”

“She wasn’t,” Lorenzo said softly.

“I know that now,” Pascale whispered. “But it’s too late to be there for the little girl who cried when we sold her horse. Or the young woman who spent her graduation alone because we were all watching a race.”

Pascale looked up, eyes brimming.

“But maybe it’s not too late for the woman she’s become. The one who found someone who sees her. Who loves her enough to ask for her forever, even when she felt invisible.”

Lorenzo nodded slowly. “You’ll have to show her. Not just say it.”

“I don’t even know if she’ll want to hear from me,” Pascale said.

“You’ll try anyway,” he replied. “Because that’s what she deserved all along. Someone who didn’t need a reminder to show up.”

The air shifted slightly — still heavy, still painful, but no longer suffocating.

Pascale exhaled shakily and picked up her phone again.

“I want to fix it,” Pascale said eventually. “I don’t know how, but I want to try. I don’t want her to think we only care now because she married someone famous.”

“Then don’t start with an apology for missing the wedding,” Lorenzo said, voice low but steady. “Start with an apology for everything before it.”

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

Lando: (sends screenshots)

Lando: okay so we all agree that was… A Lot™?

George: “Then maybe act like it.” Cold. Accurate. Deserved.

Lewis: I was hoping Charles would reflect Not double down on the yelling and gaslighting

Carlos: He kept yelling “SHE’S MY SISTER” like it was a spell It’s not. It’s just a fact. And not one he treated with care.

Zhou: I’m honestly mad at him. Belle deserved better than that meltdown.

Daniel: She’s been waving white flags for YEARS. The fact that she had to marry Max Verstappen for him to finally notice is… tragic.

Logan: He tried to make it all about himself. Again.

Esteban: And he really told Max “you went behind my back” like Belle is property

Sebastian: Disrespectful. Self-centered. Deflecting guilt into rage. I like Charles. But this? This was ugly.

Lance: You could see the second-hand shame through the screen

Valtteri: Honestly, I don’t blame Max for losing patience.

Nico R.: He gave Charles every opportunity to calm down. Charles chose violence.

Oscar: “Which is more than I can say for you.” Yeah. That line still lives in my head.

Fernando: Max protected her. Period. Charles tried to make it about rivalry. One of them is married. The other is playing victim.

Mark: I love when people forget that Max is scary when he loves someone Not just when he races

David: Charles thought the betrayal was the secret The real betrayal is that she stopped counting on him, and he never noticed

George: And now he’s blaming everyone except himself.

Lando: What exactly did he expect? That she’d send a save-the-date and beg for attention?

Lewis: She already did. Every time she showed up and got ignored.

Sebastian: She didn’t disappear. She just stopped asking to be seen.

Alex: And I’m done coddling Charles about that.

Carlos: Same.

Oscar: She chose happiness. He called it betrayal. That says everything.

Zhou: Should we be worried about today?

Daniel: We should be prepared. Max said he’s bringing her to the paddock. And Charles? He’ll implode.

Fernando: Let him. Maybe he’ll finally listen if it’s in public.

Lewis: He doesn’t deserve answers. He deserves the silence he gave her.

George: And if she does say anything to him, it’s her choice.

***

Belle had never liked the paddock.

Not because it wasn’t impressive — it was. Efficient, loud, organized chaos. But because it had never really felt like hers. Not even when Charles had brought her around as a teenager, wide-eyed and silent, watching her brothers shake hands and pose for cameras while she trailed two steps behind.

She knew how invisible you could be in a place like this.

But not today.

Not now.

She stepped through the gates with Max beside her — her fingers laced in his, steady and certain — and the hush that fell over the paddock was immediate.

Belle could feel it.

The weight of eyes. The slow, sharp recognition rippling outward from person to person like a silent explosion. Some turned to look, others tried not to, but they all felt it. The shift. The fact that something had changed.

That she had changed.

Max didn’t break stride. Neither did she.

The sun was warm on her shoulders, but the Red Bull jacket she wore — his, oversized and soft — felt like armor. Familiar. Safe. She’d tugged it from his closet that morning while he was brushing his teeth, said nothing as she slipped it on, and Max had only smiled at her like she was everything in the world worth looking at.

He hadn’t let go of her hand since.

Belle didn’t smile, but she didn’t flinch either.

She looked ahead, chin high, expression calm. If they wanted something loud — a statement, a spectacle — they weren’t going to get it.

They’d get this.

Her wedding band catching the light. Her hand in Max’s. Her name — Belle Verstappen — already echoing through the internet.

Let them talk.

She heard someone near the McLaren garage whisper, “Oh my god, it’s really her.” Heard another murmur, “She’s wearing his jacket.”

Belle didn’t look. She didn’t have to.

She could feel the stares. Could feel the quiet scramble of the media trying to decide whether or not to speak. To ask. To breathe.

She kept walking.

Max leaned in slightly, barely tilting his head toward her, and said under his breath, “Still with me?”

Belle’s lips curved — just slightly. “Always.”

His thumb brushed along the side of her hand in response. The smallest touch. But enough.

They moved through the paddock like a weather system — calm on the surface, but electric underneath. Some drivers straightened up when they passed. Some looked away. One engineer dropped their tablet. Someone near the Ferrari garage gasped.

Belle didn’t look toward it.

She didn’t need to see Charles to know he was watching.

She could feel it — that specific burn of a sibling’s shock, of betrayal, of too-late recognition. And it hurt, somewhere deep in her chest. But it didn’t undo her.

Not this time.

Max gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.

She kept walking.

Every step felt like reclaiming something. Every heartbeat steadier than the last.

Let them stare. Let them wonder.

They hadn’t seen her before. They hadn’t heard her.

Now they would.

Quietly. Unapologetically.

This was her life.

And Belle Verstappen wasn’t hiding anymore.

***

@/GridGossip: 🚨BREAKING: BELLE VERSTAPPEN JUST WALKED INTO THE PADDOCK HOLDING MAX’S HAND She’s wearing his jacket An emerald engagement ring And a gold wedding band I’m shaking. I’m actually shaking. 📸 (zoomed photo)

@/F1TeaSpiller: Forget soft launches. Belle Verstappen just HARD LAUNCHED HER ENTIRE MARRIAGE That’s a wedding ring, babes. A wedding ring.

@/RedBullTroll33: Max Verstappen didn’t post a wedding photo. Didn’t do an announcement. Just walked into the paddock with his wife wearing a rock the size of my student debt. Power move.

@/FerrariF1Pain: The Leclerc family watching Belle walk in like: 👁👄👁 With a RING With MAX In his jacket Wearing the smirk of a woman who’s been underrated for too long

@/f1memequeen: That emerald engagement ring is screaming “I don’t need your approval, I already have his last name” And honestly?? Obsessed.

@/WifeGuyMax: Everyone: when will Max post Belle? Max: I’ll bring Belle. Max: To the paddock. Max: With a gold band on her finger. Max: Say hello to my wife.

@/GridChaosDaily: Belle is wearing a gold wedding band and an engagement ring the size of a walnut and hasn’t blinked once Meanwhile Charles looks like he’s on the verge of spontaneously combusting

@/MonacoRoyalty: THE RING THE JACKET THE HAND-HOLDING THE WALK SHE’S THE MAIN CHARACTER

@/MaxIsWinning: Max Verstappen said:

Emerald ring ✔️

Gold band ✔️

My jacket ✔️

My hand ✔️

My wife ✔️ Legend.

@/f1memequeen: Belle: walks in calmly Internet: 💍😱🔥👗👀💀💍👑 The power of SILENCE

@/LandoSimp44: me: I’m over the Verstappen-Leclerc marriage drama also me: zooming in on the ring like it’s the Mona Lisa

@/FerrariTears: Charles is looking at that gold band like it personally betrayed him Arthur’s gone full ghost mode Pascale is probably praying in a dark room Meanwhile Belle’s just casually wearing a 5-figure emerald like it’s nothing

@/F1MemeLord: Belle: marries Max Verstappen in secret Charles: forgets her birthday Belle: walks into the paddock with a ring and a husband The plot arc is insane. The payoff? Cinematic.

@/gridgossip: MAX WALKING IN WITH HIS WIFE AND ZERO APOLOGY IS THE MOST VERSTAPPEN THING TO EVER HAPPEN

@/TifosiTears: Belle really said: you forgot me? let me introduce you to my husband and this giant green rock

***

The moment they stepped inside the Red Bull garage, Belle felt the shift.

It wasn’t like entering a room. It was like crossing a threshold — one she could never go back from.

There were voices, radio chatter, tire warmers humming. Mechanics moved with sharp efficiency. But as Max walked in with her hand still folded in his, everything… slowed.

Heads turned. Not in shock — they all knew by now. But in curiosity.

She was part of it now.

Max dropped his bag with practiced ease, nodded at one of the engineers, and then looked back at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the room.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, just for her.

Belle nodded, though her heart was fluttering too fast. “Yeah. Just—this is a lot.”

“You don’t have to talk to anyone if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” she said quietly. “I want to meet the people who know the version of you I don’t get at home.”

Max smiled like that meant more than she realized — like she’d just handed him something no one else ever had.

“Alright,” he murmured. “Time to meet the chaos.”

Belle only had a second to steel herself before she heard the gruff voice.

“About time you brought her here.”

Jos.

He was already standing near the back wall of the garage, arms folded, mouth tugged up in something that resembled a smile. As he looked at her properly, something softened in his expression. Something almost proud.

“See you survived the vultures,” he said drily, and she couldn’t help but laugh.

She blinked — caught off guard — and then smiled. “I’m told it’s a survival skill.”

Jos chuckled — actually chuckled — and nodded. “Good. You’ll need it.”

“Papa,” Max greeted casually, unbothered by the tension humming in the air. “Thanks for being here. You’ll keep an eye on her while I’m in the car.”

Belle blinked, surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Max smiled slightly. “Didn’t want to stress you out.”

Jos’s lips twitched. Just barely.

“Sit where you want,” he said to her. “It’s quieter at the back. And if anyone annoys you, tell them you married a Verstappen. That’ll scare them off.”

Max gave him a look. Jos ignored him entirely.

Before Belle could respond, a familiar voice called out from just inside the garage.

“Well, well. You’re finally in the right garage.”

She turned — and smiled fully for the first time that day.

Gianpiero Lambiase stood near his station, headset already slung around his neck, amusement lighting his usually serious expression.

“Hi, GP,” Belle said warmly.

He approached, offering a half-hug, half-handshake that was somehow the perfect balance of affection and professionalism. “Max said you’d be here, but I figured he was bluffing.”

“I almost backed out,” Belle admitted. “Then he bribed me with his jacket and pancakes.”

“Classic Verstappen tactics,” GP deadpanned. “Food, flattery, and limited emotional vocabulary.”

Max, passing behind them, muttered, “I can still hear you.”

GP grinned, unfazed. “Welcome, Belle. We’ve all been betting on when you'd show up.”

She arched a brow. “And who won?”

“Helmut,” GP said, disgusted. “Which is horrifying.”

Max returned, tugging lightly on her sleeve. “Come on. Christian wants to meet you.”

Belle exhaled, nerves fluttering again, but she followed Max past rows of screens and engineers until they stopped in front of Christian Horner, who turned to greet them with the ease of a man who’d already been briefed but was pretending he hadn’t.

“Well, you’ve caused quite the storm.”

Christian Horner.

He approached with that signature half-smile of his, hands in his pockets, a subtle look of curiosity behind the polite charm.

“So this is the mysterious Mrs. Verstappen,” he said warmly. “Finally. The woman who managed to tame our reigning champion. Or so the rumors say.”

“I don’t think anyone tames Max,” Belle said dryly.

Christian laughed. “You might be right. But clearly, you’re the exception.”

She extended a hand, and he shook it firmly.

“Christian Horner,” he added, even though she obviously knew.

“Belle Verstappen,” she said quietly — testing the name again. Feeling it settle.

Christian’s gaze flicked to her left hand, where the emerald caught the overhead lights. “Well, it’s official now. Welcome to the madness.”

Belle took a slow breath as they stepped deeper into the garage, Max’s hand briefly grazing her lower back before he peeled off toward his car.

She watched him go, then looked around at the controlled chaos of Red Bull’s world — the data streams, the techs, the noise, the anticipation.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was standing on the outside of someone else’s life.

She was here.

She was his.

And the garage was exactly where she was supposed to be.

***

Arthur wasn’t sure what he expected.

Maybe denial. Maybe chaos. Maybe the internet was wrong — maybe Belle hadn’t really married Max Verstappen. Maybe someone had faked the name change. Maybe it was a fever dream.

But then he saw them.

Isabelle. Walking into the paddock like she belonged there. Wearing Max’s jacket. Wearing a wedding band. Holding his hand.

Arthur froze mid-step outside the Ferrari hospitality unit. His coffee trembled in his grip. For a second, he genuinely forgot how to breathe.

Because it wasn’t just that Isabelle was there.

It was the way Max glanced at her every few steps, the way she leaned in slightly when the crowd pressed too close. The way their fingers didn’t untangle, not once. Not even when flashes went off or someone whispered her name like it was blasphemy.

She looked calm. Not smug. Not afraid. Just… calm.

And that was what undid Arthur most.

Because she’d never looked like that before — not at races, not around the family, not anywhere she’d ever been expected to play the silent sibling to Charles’ glory.

She looked like herself. Like someone who had finally been given permission to take up space.

And beside him, Charles looked like he was about to snap.

“Unbelievable,” Charles muttered, voice too low and too bitter. “He couldn’t even tell me. He had to parade her in front of everyone like this?”

Arthur tore his eyes away from Isabelle — reluctantly — and turned toward his older brother.

“Are you serious right now?” he asked.

Charles flinched. “What?”

“She’s walking in with her husband, Charles. Not doing a press tour. What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought maybe—” Charles stopped, jaw tight. “Maybe she’d have the decency to talk to me first.”

Arthur stared at him. “Decency? Are you hearing yourself?”

Charles ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “She’s my sister—”

“And you’re acting like she’s your possession.”

Charles turned on him. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” Arthur snapped, stepping closer, voice sharp. “You’re acting like she owed you something when all she ever wanted was to be treated like she mattered!”

“Don’t twist this, Arthur,” Charles said, low and warning.

Arthur laughed — harsh, disbelieving. “You forgot her birthday. We forgot her birthday!”

“That was a mistake—”

“We forgot her birthday, and then when she finally chooses herself, finally chooses someone who sees her, you make it about you?”

“She married Max—”

“She married someone who shows up for her,” Arthur interrupted. “Which is more than we’ve done in years.”

Charles’ face tightened.

Arthur kept going. “You don’t get to be the victim here. Not when she’s spent years watching you get cheered while she was ignored. Not when she begged for scraps of attention and we gave her nothing.”

Charles looked like he wanted to argue. He didn’t.

“She stopped trying to be seen by us,” Arthur said quietly. “Because she found someone who already sees her.”

Charles swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward the Red Bull garage where Belle had disappeared with Max minutes ago. “I just… I didn’t think she’d leave us like that.”

“She didn’t leave,” Arthur said. “We just never noticed when she stopped waiting.”

Silence.

Thick. Tense. Regretful.

Charles looked down, jaw clenched. He didn’t say sorry. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Arthur sighed and set his coffee down on the table beside him.

“If you want to be part of her life now, Charles,” he said. “You’re going to have to show her that you’re finally willing to see her. Not as your sister. As herself.”

Then he walked away, leaving Charles in the middle of the paddock — alone, surrounded by people, and for the first time, not the main character.

***

Belle had just sat down with a cup of tea in the quiet corner of Red Bull hospitality when she heard it.

A voice. Sharp. French-accented. Not loud, but unmistakably firm.

She looked up instinctively — and wasn’t surprised.

Arthur.

Standing just outside the entrance, shoulders tense, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets like he was trying to shrink into himself. He’d clearly made it through the first layer of staff with that Leclerc charm that used to get him everywhere.

Unfortunately for him, Jos Verstappen was standing by the doorway.

And Jos did not do charm.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing here?” Jos asked, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Arthur hesitated. “I just—I wanted to talk to her.”

“This isn’t Ferrari,” Jos said, voice calm but cutting. “You don’t get to stroll in here after throwing a tantrum across half the paddock and acting like your sister’s marriage is some kind of betrayal.”

Arthur flushed. “I didn’t throw a tantrum—”

“You don’t belong here,” Jos said. “Not after this morning. Not after the way your brother behaved.”

Arthur’s face flushed. “I came her to…”

“To what?” Jos stepped closer. “Apologize on behalf of Charles? Defend him? Make excuses for how you treated her?”

“No!” Arthur said quickly, hands up. “No. I’m not here for Charles. I’m here for her.”

Belle stood before she even realized she’d moved.

“Jos,” she said, voice soft but clear. “It’s fine.”

He turned toward her, frowning. “Belle—”

“I want to talk to him,” she said.

And for the first time in a very long time, she saw someone else hesitate when talking to her.

Jos studied her face for a beat. Whatever he saw must have been enough, because he gave a terse nod and stepped back. Not far. But far enough to say I’m still watching.

Arthur looked like he was bracing for impact as she walked toward him.

Belle stopped a few steps away, arms crossed loosely. She didn’t hug him. Didn’t cry.

He stopped a little too far away, hands in his pockets, guilt etched into every line of his face.

“You weren’t really trying to sneak past Jos Verstappen, were you?” she finally asked dryly.

Arthur groaned. “I thought maybe if I moved fast enough, he wouldn’t see me.”

A faint smile tugged at Belle’s mouth. “He used to spot Max sneaking out after curfew with a hoodie pulled over his head. You never had a chance.”

Arthur groaned. “I thought maybe if I moved fast enough, he’d blink.”

“He never blinks,” she said.

He cracked a smile, brief and sheepish. “You look good.”

Her expression softened, barely. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t,” he admitted. “Charles is sulking like it’s a championship sport. Maman’s crying into a croissant. Lorenzo’s trying to schedule a family meeting like it’s a UN crisis summit.”

Belle sighed, gaze drifting past him for a moment. “I figured.”

He hesitated. “I didn’t come to defend anyone. Not Charles. Not Maman. I just… I needed to see you. For myself.”

She studied him in silence. Arthur had always been a little caught in the middle — younger than Charles, louder than Lorenzo, trying to carve space where there was none. He wasn’t blameless. But he hadn’t been cruel. Just… complicit.

But he was trying now.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable — just full. Full of all the things left unsaid for too long. All the messages never sent. All the birthday calls missed, the family dinners where she was present but not seen.

“You used to hide in my bed during thunderstorms,” Belle said quietly. “You’d ask me to read the same chapter of Le Petit Prince three times until you fell asleep.”

Arthur blinked, surprised. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything,” Belle said. “I remember the good things. I always tried to.”

His throat worked around the lump there. “Why didn’t you tell me? About Max. About the wedding. About… any of it?”

Belle looked down at the rings on her finger — the green of the emerald glinting faintly under the hospitality lighting, the simple gold band beneath it warm against her skin.

“Because you weren’t really looking,” she said. “None of you were. And I was tired of asking to be seen.”

Arthur didn’t flinch. Didn’t argue.

“I know,” he said instead, voice low and thick. “I think… I’ve known it for a while. I just didn’t know how to face it. But seeing you with Max — the way he looks at you, the way you look at you — I get it now. And I hate that it took this for me to see it.”

“It’s not about hating yourself,” Belle said, gentler this time. “It’s about doing better now. If you want to.”

Arthur looked at her like she was someone new. Someone stronger. Someone who had stopped waiting for the world to recognize her and built a place where she didn’t need permission.

“Are you happy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

He exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding that breath all morning.

“Good,” he said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

Belle stepped forward then, arms uncrossed, and opened them. The offer was quiet. Soft.

Arthur didn’t hesitate.

He pulled her into a hug like he was afraid she might vanish again. His arms wound around her, shoulders trembling just slightly. Belle hugged him back — firm and steady.

And it felt like something beginning again.

Not perfectly. Not fixed.

But trying.

When they finally stepped apart, Belle offered a quiet, teasing smile. “Next time, use the front entrance. Jos might not be so forgiving twice.”

Arthur groaned. “I’m still recovering. I think he aged me ten years with one sentence.”

She laughed — really laughed, for the first time that day.

Behind them, Jos gave a small grunt from where he stood — arms crossed, unimpressed — but Belle didn’t miss the way one corner of his mouth almost curved.

***

Max didn’t usually seek people out for conversations. Not personal ones, anyway.

He’d spent most of his life guarding things that mattered — like they were fragile, like they’d break if anyone else got too close. But this was different. She was different. And what they had now — what was growing quietly inside her — felt too big to carry on his own.

So he found GP.

It was a lull in the afternoon, the last briefing before the sim work, engineers rotating through data stations like gears in a perfect machine. But GP was by himself, leaning against the telemetry table, one brow raised as Max approached with the kind of expression that said, you better not be about to request a new steering wheel setting.

Max didn’t say anything right away.

GP waited.

“I need to tell you something,” Max said finally. His voice was lower than usual. Not tense — just held close.

GP straightened a little. “What happened?”

“She’s pregnant,” Max said.

The words came out smoother than he expected. Maybe because they’d been sitting on his tongue all day.

GP stared at him. Blinked once. Then again.

And then — grinned.

“Seriously?” he asked, already smiling. “Belle’s pregnant?”

Max nodded once, his throat tight. “Yeah. She told me a few weeks ago.”

GP exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Bloody hell. I should’ve seen that coming.”

Max raised a brow. “You didn’t?”

“I figured it was either that or you bought her a horse farm.”

Max laughed — properly, finally, the weight of the day cracking just a little. “I might still do that.”

GP was still smiling, but there was something else in his face now — something softer. Warmer.

“Kids are great,” he said, voice lower, more personal now. “I mean, chaotic and exhausting, but… they’re the best thing I’ve ever done.”

Max blinked. “You’ve never said that.”

GP shrugged. “Didn’t seem relevant when you were nineteen and trying to beat Lewis Hamilton into turn one.”

Max huffed a laugh. “Fair.”

There was a pause. A weight in the air — not heavy, but full.

“She’ll be a brilliant mum,” GP added, quieter now. “She’s got that calm strength to her. The kind you don’t notice until it’s the only thing holding you together.”

Max nodded slowly. “I know.”

“And you,” GP said, tapping a finger to Max’s chest, “are going to be fine. More than fine.”

Max hesitated. “Even with…”

“Even with your past? Your dad?” GP finished for him. “You’re not him. You never were.”

Max looked down for a moment, jaw tight. Then, after a long breath, he met GP’s eyes again. “I just want to give that kid something different. Something better.”

“You already are,” GP said simply. “You chose Belle. That’s your first good decision. Choosing that baby every day — that’s your next.”

“I’m scared,” Max admitted.

“Good,” GP said. “That means you give a damn.”

Max nodded once.

“I’m happy for you, mate,” GP added, reaching out and clasping his shoulder. “Really.”

Max nodded again, grateful in a way he didn’t know how to say.

“And just for the record,” GP added dryly, “I had a bet with my wife that you two would get pregnant before Charles figured out you were married.”

Max burst out laughing. “Did she win?”

“She always wins.”

Max was still grinning when he turned to leave, lighter than he’d been all day.

There was so much left to do — more secrets to tell, more people to face — but for now, it was enough that someone knew.

Someone who didn’t just understand racing.

Someone who understood him.

***

From the hospitality suite above the Red Bull garage, Belle had a near-perfect view of the final laps.

The Spanish heat shimmered off the track, waves of it rising like ghosts in the air, but Belle barely noticed. Her fingers gripped the arm of her seat, headset slightly askew, Max’s voice crackling faintly through the speakers — clipped, calm, focused.

She had never liked watching him race before she knew him.

Now, she knew better.

Now, she could hear it in the way he spoke to GP. The way he adjusted. Reacted. Fought, not like a man trying to prove something — but like someone who knew exactly who he was, and who he had waiting for him at the end.

You’ve got three laps left, mate, GP said calmly in her ear.

Copy. Leave it with me.

Belle swallowed hard. Her hand settled instinctively over the front of her stomach, hidden by the loose navy blouse she wore. She hadn’t told many people yet — just Victoria, Sophie, Jos, and Emilie, and now GP, thanks to Max.

But this felt like a secret the whole world would eventually know.

The final sector flew past in a blur. Tyres screamed. Crowds surged.

And then, the chequered flag.

“YES! That’s P1, Max. Well done.”

Belle exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her hand flew to her mouth, and then, just as quickly, to her chest — right over her heart.

He’d done it.

Again.

The team erupted around her — mechanics cheering, hugging, high-fiving, lifting cans of Red Bull like champagne flutes. Christian was already halfway out the door, and even Jos, who’d been watching beside her with arms crossed, allowed himself a rare smile.

But Belle?

Belle didn’t move.

Not until someone nudged her gently — a team assistant with wide eyes and an even wider grin. “He’s asking for you,” the girl said. “Go. Go!”

Belle blinked. “What?”

“Parc Fermé. He’s already out of the car. Go!”

She didn’t hesitate after that.

The hallways blurred past her — wide corridors filled with team personnel and security and overheated energy. Her flats slapped against the concrete. Her pass flashed in the light. People parted without even realizing it — as if they could feel she belonged to this moment.

She reached the barrier just as Max pulled off his helmet, hair damp with sweat, fire suit unzipped halfway down his chest.

And then he saw her.

His eyes lit up in a way Belle didn’t think he realized he saved for her. He started toward her before the cameras could swarm, before the journalists could shout, before anyone else could get between them.

He crossed to her like he knew she’d be there. Like he’d been driving toward her the whole time.

And Belle didn’t think. Didn’t care about the cameras or the crowd or the fact that Charles was likely still in his car wondering where it all went wrong.

She stepped past the barrier and met him halfway.

And then she kissed him.

There was no hesitation. No coy look at the cameras. No soft-launch subtlety.

Just her hands on his face, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, and the kind of kiss that felt like a homecoming.

The paddock erupted.

Somewhere behind them, a Sky Sports presenter squeaked. David Croft nearly dropped his mic.

Belle pulled back only when Max laughed against her mouth.

“You kissed me in Parc Fermé,” he murmured.

“You won,” she said simply, brushing sweat-mussed hair off his forehead. “You deserve to be kissed.”

Max looked at her for a long moment, then down — briefly, instinctively — at her stomach, where no one else had noticed her hand lingering.

And then he whispered, just for her: “Both of you.”

Belle smiled. “You came home to us safe.”

Max kissed her one more time, softer now, and then turned back toward the swarm of cameras and celebration.

And Belle?

Belle stood at the edge of it all — her lips still tingling, her heart full — knowing the headlines tomorrow would be chaos.

But for now?

She had kissed her husband in front of the entire world.

And she didn’t regret a single second.

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/RedBullTroll33: i thought the name change was chaos BUT THIS??? BELLE JUST WALKED IN AND KISSED HIM LIKE THEY WEREN’T HIDING FOR A YEAR I’M LOSING IT

@/FerrariTears: charles leclerc being forced to watch max verstappen win the race and then watch his baby sister kiss him like it’s a romcom finale is actually greek tragedy level storytelling

@/f1memequeen: Belle: soft-launched a horse and an emerald ring Belle: quietly changed her last name to Verstappen Belle: walks into parc fermé and kisses her world champion husband Me: sobbing okay queen I GET IT

@/WifeGuyMax: MAX VERSTAPPEN KISSED HIS WIFE IN FRONT OF EVERYONE AND LOOKED LIKE HE’D JUST WON SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT THAN A RACE i’m unwell

@/f1memehub: sky sports: mid-sentence belle: kisses max crofty: glitches karun: gasping social media admin: pressing post like their life depends on it

@/LandoSimp44: the paddock was like “max has a secret wife” max said “here she is. in my arms. deal with it.”

@/MonacoRoyalty: SHE KISSED HIM IN PARC FERMÉ AFTER THE WIN AND HE LOOKED AT HER LIKE SHE PUT THE SUN IN THE SKY i’m crying this is cinema

@/MaxIsWinning: max verstappen doesn’t do drama he does declarations first her name now the kiss next stop: world domination

@/FerrariF1Pain: charles watching belle kiss max in parc fermé after forgetting her birthday is the most older brother consequences i’ve ever seen

@/GridChaosDaily: “Belle kissed Max after the Spanish GP” is now officially my favorite F1 moment no context. just vibes. just love

***

Instagram Post: @/belleverstappen

@/maxverstappen1: Every lifetime, every circuit. Every time. 💍❤️

@/redbullracing: Belle Verstappen supremacy. (also congrats Max 👀)

@/emilie_abadie: this is my new phone background. and lock screen. and wallpaper. and religion. thanks.

@/pierregasly: i need everyone to stop posting this before i start believing in soulmates again

@/landonorris: i was THERE. i SAW IT. i’m never recovering.

@/f1: most liked paddock kiss of all time? confirmed.

@tifositimes: I didn’t expect to cry over a Verstappen kiss post today but here we are.

@/chaoticgridgirl: SHE POSTED IT. THE KISS. THE LEGENDARY KISS. I NEED A MINUTE. ACTUALLY I NEED A WEEK.

@/f1softlaunchdetective: this is what soft-launch girlies do when they hit their final form. she dropped ONE photo and burned the paddock to the ground.

@/maxielflamequeen: the ring. the kiss. the caption.

@paddockwhispers: arthur liked it. charles didn’t.

@softverstappen: i will never emotionally recover from this post. ever. she wins. every time.

@maxsvillainera: look at the way he’s holding her look at the way she’s smiling into the kiss no notes. pure poetry.

***

FIA Press Conference — Post-Race | Spanish Grand Prix 2024

Drivers: P1 - Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing), P2 - Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes), P3 - Lando Norris (McLaren)

Moderator: Congratulations, Max. A win today. How are you feeling?

Max: Good. Yeah, car felt great, team executed perfectly. Always nice to win in Barcelona.

Moderator: We’ll open the floor for questions.

Journalist #1: Max, first of all, congratulations. But obviously everyone’s talking about the moment in Parc Fermé. Can you confirm — was that your wife? And are the rumors true that you and Isabelle Leclerc got married in secret?

Max: Yes. That was my wife. And yes — we got married in Monaco a few weeks ago. We’re very happy.

Lando: (muttering into his mic) Understatement of the century.

Lewis: (grinning) Congrats, man.

Journalist #2: Max, there’s been a lot of talk online about Belle’s birthday being forgotten by her family and this being the reason she pulled away from them. Any comment on that?

Max: No.

Journalist #2: Nothing at all?

Max: (calmly) No.

Journalist #3: There’s a narrative online that Belle’s been overlooked for years. Some say this entire paddock entrance and Parc Fermé kiss was a statement. Was that intentional?

Max: (dryly) We walked in holding hands. We kissed. We’re married. If that counts as a statement, I don’t know what to tell you.

Journalist #4: Do you think this will affect your dynamic with Charles Leclerc?

Max: (expression flat) We’ll see. That’s between him and his sister. I’m just here to race cars and go home to my wife.

Lando: (quietly, to Lewis) He’s in his “husband first, world champion second” era.

Lewis: (laughing into his mic) He really is.

Journalist #6: Do you plan on making any public statement about the family fallout?

Max: No. That’s her story to tell, not mine. And frankly, it’s not gossip. It’s real life. So maybe let’s show a little respect.

Journalist #7: What was going through your mind when she kissed you in Parc Fermé?

Max: (finally smiling) That I’m the luckiest guy in the world.

Journalist #8: Will your wife be traveling with you to more races now?

Max (still polite, still done): We‘ll decide what works best for us as a family. That’s between us.

Reporter #9: Was Belle’s presence in the paddock today a signal? Especially given what happened with Charles—

Max: (cuts in, voice calm but firmer) Belle doesn’t need to signal anything. She’s not a statement. She’s a person. And she came today to support her husband. That’s all.

Moderator: Alright, I think we’ll wrap it there before anyone pushes their luck. Congratulations to all three drivers. Max, Lando, Lewis — thank you.

Lando (leaning into mic): Congrats again, mate. On the win and the wife.

***

Fred Vasseur closed the door harder than necessary.

The sound echoed through the otherwise silent room like a gunshot.

Charles looked up from where he was sitting on the small couch, still in his fireproofs, helmet discarded beside him. He was sweaty, tired, irritated — and entirely unprepared.

“Qu’est-ce que tu fais, Charles?” Fred said sharply. What are you doing?

Charles blinked. “What—?”

“You want to explain to me,” Fred continued, voice calm in the most dangerous way possible, “how your sister kissing Max Verstappen became the story of our weekend?”

Charles sat up straighter. “That’s not fair—”

“No?” Fred crossed the room, standing over him now. “Because I think it’s very fair. You let your personal drama become a paddock sideshow, and now everyone’s talking about the Leclerc family meltdown while we limp home with a P5 and a ruined PR day.”

“I didn’t ask for that to happen!”

“But you made sure it did,” Fred snapped. “You didn’t know Belle got married. Fine. You didn’t approve of who she married. Fine. You could’ve said nothing. But instead, you threw a tantrum. In the paddock. In group chats. Loud enough that half the drivers are mocking you and the other half are wondering if you even see your sister as a person.”

Charles flushed. “That’s not—”

“You forgot her birthday, Charles.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Fred didn’t yell. He didn’t need to.

“You forgot her birthday. You forgot her job. You forgot she moved. And when she stopped chasing your attention, you acted like she betrayed you.” His voice didn’t rise, but it sharpened with every word. “And now you’re shocked that the only person she trusted to hold her hand through it all was the man who sees her every single day?”

Charles looked away, jaw tight. “It wasn’t supposed to be public.”

Fred laughed — once, bitter and short. “And yet you’re the one who made it public. Max didn’t. Belle didn’t. You did. And now you’ve made us look like amateurs — not because of strategy, but because you couldn’t handle the fact that your sister’s life isn’t orbiting around you anymore.”

Charles opened his mouth. Closed it. No words came.

Fred sighed — not in exasperation, but in disappointment. And that hurt more.

“I expected more from you,” he said quietly. “As a driver, yes. But more than that — as a man. As a brother.”

Charles flinched like he’d been hit.

“You want to fix this?” Fred said, stepping back. “Then stop sulking. Start listening. And for the love of God, don’t let Max Verstappen be the better man in every single room you enter.”

He turned and walked to the door.

“Because right now?” he added, hand on the handle. “He’s not just beating you on track. He’s beating you in every other way that matters.”

And then he left.

Charles stayed seated, eyes burning, the silence pressing heavier than any helmet ever had.

***

Dinner had started out exactly the way Belle expected.

Loud. Warm. Slightly unhinged.

They were tucked into a quiet corner of a restaurant just off the Barcelona marina — the kind of place Max loved because no one there cared about racing unless it blocked traffic. The table was round, the lighting dim and golden, and the laughter had already started before the appetizers arrived.

Lando had barely let Max sit down before declaring, “You’re disgusting. You win a race and then get kissed like it’s a Netflix finale. Get out.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Max had said, completely unbothered.

Oscar, seated beside Lily, just smirked. “It was kind of romantic.”

Lily looked between the two of them with a soft smile. “Kind of? It broke the Internet.”

Daniel had toasted “to hard launches, soft kisses, and Verstappen chaos,” and Belle had nearly snorted water through her nose.

But now dinner had mellowed. Plates cleared. Dessert on the way. The kind of soft lull that usually came right before someone said something life-changing.

Max glanced at Belle. That look — gentle, checking, asking without words.

She nodded once.

He cleared his throat lightly. “We actually… wanted to tell you guys something.”

Four pairs of eyes snapped to attention.

“Tell me you’re moving to the countryside and buying a farm,” Lando said immediately. “Please. I need this arc.”

“Better,” Max said, eyes flicking toward Belle.

Belle rested her hands on the edge of the table. Her heart was fluttering, not with nerves exactly — more like awe. Like the moment was finally catching up to her.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

There was a pause.

A moment of stunned silence.

And then—

“NO YOU’RE NOT,” Daniel half-shouted, nearly knocking over his wine glass.

Lily gasped, hands flying to her mouth. “Are you serious?!”

Oscar just stared, mouth slightly open like his brain had hit the brakes.

Lando blinked twice, then pointed between them. “Like… with a baby baby?”

Belle burst into laughter — the tension cracking wide open. Max was already grinning like he’d been waiting for this chaos all night.

“Yes, Lando,” Belle said, wiping at her eyes. “A baby baby.”

Oscar finally found his voice. “How long have you known?”

“A few weeks,” Max said. “We’re keeping it quiet for now. But we wanted you to know first.”

Lily leaned across the table, eyes wide and shining. “You’re going to be parents. Oh my god. That baby is going to have cheekbones and a death stare.”

“And probably a kart by age two,” Daniel added, now fully beaming. “Holy shit. Max Verstappen’s going to be a dad. I need to sit down.”

“You are sitting down,” Oscar said, still blinking like he hadn’t caught up.

“I need to sit down harder,” Daniel muttered.

Lando reached for Belle’s hand across the table, squeezing it. “You’re going to be amazing.”

Belle swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “I’m scared,” she admitted. “But… I’m also happy. Really happy.”

Max’s hand found her thigh under the table, grounding and steady. She didn’t have to look to know he was watching her with that same soft, almost reverent expression he’d had ever since she told him.

Oscar was smiling now too, the initial shock melting into something warm. “Congratulations,” he said. “Both of you. Really.”

“And selfishly,” Lily added, “I’m just glad we get to love this baby too.”

Daniel raised his glass. “To the official grid baby.”

“We’re not calling them that,” Belle said immediately.

“To Max spiraling when the baby kicks for the first time,” Oscar added, grinning.

“To all of it,” Lando finished. “To them.”

They clinked glasses — softly, gently.

And as Belle looked around at the people who had chosen her — not because she was someone’s sister, not because she was attached to a name — but because they loved her, her heart felt impossibly full.

The world could stay outside tonight.

This was theirs.

***

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sabrinajenre96 · 1 month ago

Text

Title: “Catching More Than Flowers”

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Lopez! Reader

Warning ⚠️: none

Angela looked radiant as she tossed the bouquet into the air, laughter ringing out around the reception hall. Y/N stood near the back, half watching, half sipping her drink, not really expecting to participate—until the flowers landed directly in her hands. No scramble. No fight. Just… boom. Caught.

Gasps and playful shrieks followed as Y/N stared down at the bouquet in surprise, her heart hammering.

She felt the weight of a dozen eyes on her—including Tim’s.

Her gaze flicked across the room, and there he was. Tim Bradford, her boyfriend, her partner, her calm in the chaos. He wore that sharp suit way too well, standing by the bar with a beer in hand and a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Crap.

Y/N smiled, but it was tight, and as the dancing resumed, she retreated to a quieter corner of the floor.

---

Tim noticed right away.

Y/N wasn’t the type to sulk or spiral, but something was eating at her. During Angela and Wesley’s first dance, he watched her sway along with the others, her movements robotic. The usual fire in her eyes was dimmed.

When the slow dance music shifted into a more universal rhythm, he walked up and offered his hand. “Dance with me?”

She looked up, surprised. “You don’t dance.”

“I make exceptions,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her gently into his arms. They moved together slowly, comfortably, like they’d done this a thousand times.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said after a beat. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

She tilted her chin, a practiced smile forming. “Just thinking about my detective’s exam. It’s coming up.”

Tim chuckled softly, tightening his hold on her waist. “You’re lying.”

Her eyes snapped to his. “What?”

“I know you,” he said calmly. “You’re going to crush that exam. You’ve been ready for weeks. This mood? It started the second you caught that bouquet.”

Y/N lowered her gaze, letting the silence stretch between them before speaking, voice softer now. “I was scared. I know what your marriage with Isabel did to you. I didn’t want you to think I… expected something. Or was pushing you.”

Tim was quiet for a moment, then exhaled. “You didn’t scare me.”

She blinked up at him.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have baggage. Isabel and I… we weren’t right, and yeah, it messed me up. But you’re not her. You’re you, and I see a future with you. A real one. A family. Something I never even talked about with her.”

Y/N’s lips parted, caught off guard by his honesty. Her eyes shimmered slightly, but she kept them steady on his.

“I didn’t expect you to say that,” she whispered.

“Well,” he said with a smirk, “Angela would actually kill me if I hurt you. And I’m not stupid enough to mess with a Lopez sister. Especially not with Mama Lopez in my corner.”

Y/N burst out laughing. “You better not mess this up. Mama Lopez is already expecting grandchildren.”

Tim leaned in, his voice low, amused. “Is that so?”

“Oh, absolutely. She’s already making plans for the nursery.”

He laughed, then brushed a soft kiss over her lips. “Well then, guess I better start being the man you deserve. And a damn good son-in-law.”

“You already are,” she whispered, her arms tightening around him.

And for the first time all night, she wasn’t worried about the future—because she knew who she’d be facing it with.

#the rookie fanfic #the rookie #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford fanfiction #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford

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newobsessionweekly · 1 year ago

Text

Puppy

Main masterlist | The Rookie masterlist

Tim Bradford x fem!reader Fandom: The Rookie

Summary: While you visit Tim at the station, you are too nice to a teenager he just arrested. To your boyfriend's exasperation, you pay the bail for the kid and cook him a warm dinner.

Warnings: don't think so, pure fluff, not proofread yet

Fluff Requested: Yes Words: 2.5k

GIF not mine, credits to the owner.

"So," Lucy began tentatively, stealing a glance at the sergeant. "I saw you the other day. Looking at those rings."

"Chen." Tim warned his aide.

"Are you proposing to Y/N?" she pressed, her excitement bubbling over.

"That's not your business."

But Lucy wasn't about to let it go. "Look," she said eagerly, "If you need help picking the ring, I can help. I can – I don't know, have a little talk, find out what kind of ring she wants."

"I've got this, thanks," his voice was tinged with a hint of annoyance.

"We both know you don't." Lucy leaned back, "An engagement ring is not just any jewelry she can hide in a closet if she doesn't like it."

"I think I know what she wants."

"Remember her birthday present?" she reminded him, earning an accusing glance from Tim. "Just saying. Please, at least consider it, for Y/N."

Lucy opened her mouth to say more, but Tim's eyes caught something up ahead. His expression shifted to one of relief, a welcome distraction from Lucy's insistence.

"Hold that thought."

She followed his gaze and saw a young boy attempting to break into a parked car. The kid couldn't have been more than fifteen, his hands fumbling nervously with the lock. Tim pulled the shop to a stop and got out, Lucy following closely behind.

"Dispatch, this is Sergeant Bradford. We've got a possible 459 in progress at the corner of 4th and Main."

"Hey! Step away from the car!" Tim called out, his voice authoritative.

The boy froze, his eyes wide with fear. He turned to run, but Lucy was already moving, cutting off his escape route. "It's okay," she said gently, her demeanor softening. "We're not here to hurt you."

Tim approached, his expression softening just a bit."What do you think you're doing?"

The boy stammered, "I—I wasn't going to steal it, I swear. I just... I need some money. My mom's sick, and we can't afford the meds."

The boy looked down at his feet and Lucy sighed, recognising the familiar signs of desperation. "Look, we can help you. But breaking into cars isn't the way to go."

"You need to come with us and tell us everything. We'll figure something out."

The shop was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the sound of Lucy's fingers tapping on her phone. Tim glanced over at her, his focus shifting between the road and his aide's ever-present curiosity.

"TouristPlanet says that Hawaii is number one for proposals," Lucy broke the silence, her eyes never leaving the phone.

"Chen, I don't need help. I've done it before, I know how it works," Tim replied, exasperated but with a hint of amusement.

Lucy ignored his brush-off. "Oh, but I love Y/N! I just want everything to be perfect for her. I mean, it's huge."

Tim sighed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "And you don't think I love her enough to make this special?"

"I didn't say that," Lucy replied quickly. "You've done it before, it's not a big deal for you. But it's her first proposal and she loves you."

"It is a big deal," Tim admitted, his voice softer now. "I think I love her even more than I loved Isabel back then. So it's more complicated now."

Lucy’s eyes widened in surprise, a soft smile spreading across her face. "You have a heart after all."

"Chen. Shut up." he shot her a warning sideways glance, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, sir."

As you step into the bustling station, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sugary donuts fills the air, mingling with the sound of urgent radio chatter and shuffling footsteps. You clutch the cardboard tray tighter, a smile playing on your lips as you navigate through the familiar chaos, scanning the faces for Tim's unmistakable handsomeness.

Not finding him among the desks, you make your way to Grey's office, offering a cheery wave before stepping inside.

"Morning, Sarge."

Grey glances up from his paperwork, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Y/N. Always a pleasure to have you around," he responds welcoming.

With a graceful motion, you offer him a cup of steaming coffee and gesture towards the assortment of donuts nestled in the box. The sergeant chuckles softly, accepting the offering with a nod of appreciation.

"Please do come more often," he jests, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"I'll keep that in mind," you reply playfully but your attention is elsewhere, your gaze still searching the room for that familiar figure. "You know where I can find Tim?"

With a knowing nod, Grey gestures for you to follow him as he leads the way towards the processing room. As you step inside, the atmosphere shifts from bustling activity to a more subdued intensity.

"Bradford. You have a visitor," Grey announces, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Tim looks up from his paperwork, his gaze meeting yours, and a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips. His gaze lifts, his expression softening at the sight of you standing there, a welcome interruption to the monotony of his day.

"Hey," he greets you, a flicker of surprise in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

You set the tray of treats down on a nearby table and close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. "Hey handsome," you reply, your voice muffled against his chest. "You left early and I thought you could use some coffee."

Tim’s strong arms pulled you closer, the familiar scent of his cologne mingles with the coffee and donuts, grounding you in the moment. You feel his strong, warm body melting in your arms and the steady beat of his heart, a gentle reminders of how much you love him.

Pulling back slightly, you look up into his eyes, which are now filled with a gentle warmth that belies his grumpiness.Tim’s hand finds yours, giving it a gentle squeeze before he releases you.

"You’re a lifesaver."

Lucy wander into the room, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the treats. "Y/N, you spoil us," she teases, reaching for a donut.

Your eyes drift across the room, settling on a teenage boy obediently following an officer's commands, his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. Concern wells up inside you.

"Tim," you ask softly, nodding towards the boy, "what's with the kid? What's he doing here?"

He glances over at the kid, his expression hardening. "Kid tried to break into a car. Said he needed the money to pay for his mom's meds."

Your heart aches at the sight of the innocent boy, his face etched with fear and worry. "What's going to happen to him?" you ask, your voice soft with concern.

Tim sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "He'll probably get away with bail. First offense, and the circumstances are... mitigating."

Moved by the boy’s plight, you make a decision. “Tim, can I have your card?” you ask, reaching out your hand.

Your boyfriend eyes you warily, his brow furrowing. "Why?"

"Just trust me."

He frowns but doesn't question your request further. He fishes a card from his pocket and hands it to you. As you reach for the box of donuts, his frown deepens.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice rising with annoyance.

You stop to meet his gaze, "Trust me, please."

Tim watches you walk over to the boy and kneel down, his jaw tightening. "This is ridiculous," he mutters under his breath, his grumpiness evident as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Can I have a minute with him?" you ask Lucy, who is in the midst of processing the boy.

Lucy looks over at Tim, seeking his approval. His eyes narrow, but he gives a curt nod, though his frustration is palpable. Lucy steps aside, joining your boyfriend as they watch you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Hi, there." you say softly, your voice kind and shooting, "I'm Y/N. What's your name?"

"Charlie."

"Well, Charlie, Sergeant Bradford told me you're in some kind of trouble." you say gently, your heart breaking at his situation.

The boy looks up at you, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn't mean to do anything wrong. I– I just want to help mom."

"I know, sweetheart. You hungry?" you ask, offering him a comforting smile.

Charlie nods, and you hand him the box full of donuts. His eyes widen in surprise and gratitude as he takes it.

You write your name and number on Tim's card and hand it to him. "It's gonna be okay for now. But if you have any other problems, please give us a call. If you don't want to talk to Bradford, you can call me, okay?"

"Thanks. I– I will," Charlie says, clutching the card like a lifeline.

"Where's your mom?" you ask, wanting to understand more about his situation.

"In hospital. She– uh, she has cancer and treatment is expensive."

"You stay with her at the hospital?" you ask gently, your mind already made up to help him.

Charlie nods, tears brimming in his eyes. Determined to do more, you know you'll pay his bail and offer any support you can.

Tim strides over, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. His grumpiness, which had momentarily melted away, returns in full force. "Alright, that's enough," he says, his voice firm and edged with frustration. "We need to get things moving."

You stand up, giving Charlie one last reassuring smile. "Remember, call me if you need anything," you say before turning to Tim.

He looks at you, his irritation clear. "Y/N, you can't save everyone," he mutters, shaking his head. "This isn't your job."

You meet his gaze, "I know. But I can try to help one," you reply softly.

"You really shouldn't get involved like that," he says, his voice softer now, filled with concern.

"I know."

He sighs, reaching to take your hand into his. "But I love that about you. Just...promise me you'll be careful. For my sake."

You squeeze his hand, smiling warmly. "I promise."

The end of the shift greets Tim and Lucy walking towards their cars, the sky darkening with the onset of evening. The station is quieter now, the earlier hustle and bustle giving way to the calm of a winding-down day. He's itching to get home, to feel the warmth and comfort of your presence, to escape the relentless grind of the day.

"Hey, Tim," Lucy starts, glancing at him curiously. "Did you pay the bail for that Charlie boy we arrested this morning?"

Tim raises an eyebrow, surprised. "No, why?"

"Because someone did," Lucy explains, frowning. "I checked, and he doesn’t have any other family besides his mom. I can't figure out who would have done it."

His eyes narrow, and then it hits him. "I think I know who."

The drive home is a blur as he processes the day's events. When he finally steps through the front door, he’s greeted by the comforting aroma of dinner cooking and the sound of upbeat song playing in the background.

"Sweetheart, I'm home," he calls out, his voice echoing through the house.

You turn around, a bright smile on your face. "Hey, babe. Come, come. Dinner's almost ready."

Tim steps into the kitchen, and his eyes widen in pure shock as he spots Charlie sitting at the island, a plate of snacks in front of him.

"Y/N, a word," Tim says, his voice tight.

"Make yourself at home, Charlie. We'll be right back."

You give the kid a big smile while Tim forces a very strained one, then you follow him to the bedroom. He closes the door behind you with more force than necessary, his frustration evident.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Tim demands, his voice rising in anger.

"I know, I'm sorry. I should've talked to you. But I couldn't let him stay in jail. He's been sleeping in a hospital chair, Babe. God knows when it was the last time he had a proper, warm meal. There's no one to look after him."

Tim runs a hand through his hair, his anger barely contained. "I can't believe you did that. You’ve got ourselves a puppy," he mutters, his tone sharp.

"What?" you ask, confused.

"Nothing."

You place a gentle hand on his arm, your eyes pleading. "Tim, listen to me. This kid needs help. He's scared and alone. I couldn't just walk away."

You step even closer, wrapping your arms around his waist, feeling the tension in his muscles.

"You can't just bring home a stray. This is serious, Y/N. We're not a shelter."

"Charlie is not a stray, he needs help. His mom is in the hospital with cancer, and he's been trying to fend for himself," you explain, "We have the means to help him, at least for one night."

"This isn't just about money or means, Y/N. It's about safety and boundaries. We can't take in every kid with a sob story."

"I get that, but this isn't just any kid. You saw him today, baby. He's not a criminal; he's just a boy trying to help his mom," you argue, stepping closer to him. "We can't turn our backs on him."

Tim's frustration is simmering beneath the surface. "Damn it, Y/N. This is exactly why I worry about you. You have a big heart, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

You rested your head on his chest. "I know. But I can't just turn my back when someone needs help. I get involved because I care," you say softly, meeting his eyes, "And you care too, whether you want to admit it or not."

"I can't say no to you, can I?" he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection.

You smile up at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Tim looks at you, his grumpiness warring with his love for you. "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," he sighs again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you even closer, "Just one night," he says, "And then we figure out what to do next."

You nod, relief flooding through you. "I promise. Just one night."

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, his grumpiness is melting away, "You're impossible, you know that?" a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"I know," you reply, smiling back at him. "But you love me anyway."

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Yeah, I do," he admits, his voice tender. "Now let's go see how our guest is doing."

#tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #the rookie imagine #the rookie #the rookie one shot #the rookie x reader #tim bradford imagines #tim bradford x y/n #tim x reader #tim one shot #tim imagine #tim the rookie fluff #tim the rookie imagine #tim the rookie #puppy

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writteninlunarlight-years · 8 months ago

Text

Older

This is for the @6esiree contest that they are holding! I hope you enjoy it, and even if it doesn't perform well, I am glad to have made something long! Word Count 3.5k Alastor x Gen Z Reader Based on Song Older by Isabel LaRosa TW: Sexual content, stubbornness, gen gap, age gap, tentacles, begging

Dying wasn’t the first thing on your list of exciting things to do. I mean, yes, you were a 23-year-old living in 2024, so of course, your will to live was low, but that didn’t mean you were ready for it when it happened. No, instead, death came hard and fast, all because you had some serious FOMO and a quite pitiful YOLO moment.

One minute, you were having a great night out with friends, you had a handsome silver fox wrapped around your finger, and then the next thing, you woke to a red landscape of what you only assumed was hell. With your life, it made sense why ‘Hell’ was where you ended up. You died partying and sleeping with the older man, so it only made sense that this was where you would consequently end up.

A deep sigh left you as you looked at the chaos around you. The only good thing you saw so far out of this event was that you didn’t have bills to pay anymore. It looked like as long as you played your cards right, you could get anything here without needing money. As that thought crossed your mind, an ad for redeeming sinners played on a nearby radio.

The voice on the radio was alluring as all hell and had you questioning your life and undead choices. Not even five minutes into being dead, and you are already fawning over an older man's voice. It's good to know that living habits don’t die with you in the afterlife.

Your resolve not shaken, you make your way to where the voice spoke of the Hazbin Hotel and find yourself at the base of a hill, looking up at a grand building with flashing lights. A shiver runs up your spine as you realize how powerful whoever runs this place must be. Maybe pretending to want to be saved would be well worth your time, then.

Let’s get one thing straight here: you are no damsel; you may like your men older, but that doesn’t mean you need one. No, you are an independent queen who can do what she pleases. She just also realizes when to fold and when to hold her hand. Right now, seeking refuge from the fires and sex work was worth it; however, that didn’t mean you wouldn’t earn your keep all the same.

While you thought about these prospects and made your way up to the door, you noticed it was open without you even having to knock. Pushing your head through more of the door, it was clear to see what type of establishment this was…a chaotic one.

Just standing in the entryway, the sights before you were hilarious and intriguing. A cat at the bar grumbled as he watched a spider dance on the bar. A young lady resembling a lamb hurriedly tried to stop the provocative dancing while a gray woman yelled at the spider. A cyclops laughed hysterically while tossing what you could only imagine was a bomb. A small woman rushed around laughing and stabbing the air while a man who looked a little like the lamb girl walked through the room.

The deer caught your eye the most, though, and it seemed you caught his, too, as he was the only one looking at you and your entrance. You two held eye contact, a shiver running up your spine. Oh, you definitely could get used to staying here.

Nodding more to yourself than the deer man, you walked in further and cleared your throat, everyone stopping to look at you. With a slight wave, you smiled brightly and introduced yourself. “Heya, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet ya,”

The room was silent, causing you to laugh awkwardly. As you slowly backed away, thinking maybe this wasn’t a great idea, the lamb girl came over and jumped on you. Holding your arms and bouncing, she spoke excitedly.

“Oh my goodness, a new arrival! Hi, my name is Charlie. I am the hotel's owner,” She beamed proudly at the statement and motioned to the others all in the lobby area of the room, “And this is the Hazbin Hotel residents and staff! The cat is Husk, then Angel Dust, Vaggie, Cherri, Nifty, my father,” She leaned in and whispered, “Also known as Lucifer,”

Laughing at your surprised face, she pointed to the deer man last. “This is Alastor. He is the hotelier; he helps me run the hotel! Was it his broadcast that brought you in?”

You shook your head at the information overload and laughed softly. Nodding to the question, you looked at everyone around. “Yes, I actually passed not too long ago, and as I was weighing my options on where to go, I heard the message on the radio.”

Charlie beamed proudly at Alastor, who just smiled at you precisely as he had been this entire time. You couldn’t lie. He was drop-dead gorgeous. He was tall and fit, and if his voice sounded anything like how it did on the radio, you would be a goner for sure. He was an enigma and one you knew you had to be careful of if you wanted to make it out of this hotel with your head screwed on straight.

“My my, I am quite honored my radio show was able to bring in a petal quite like yourself, dear,” He spoke so smoothly, and you knew right then how right you were; you were a goner. “I do hope you are staying here with us to be redeemed as Miss Charlotte wishes; I am eager to learn…more about you, miss Y/N.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding. Looking at the others, you laughed and began some small talk while they decided where would be the best place to put you. The conversations ranged from how everyone died to how people got here, and you learned more about how hell worked. Learning that Alastor owned many souls only made him more appealing and dangerous.

As Charlie led you to your room, she made sure to inform you of the dangers of getting mixed up with Alastor. Being mindful of her warnings and the blaring alarms in your head that did not match the alarms between your legs, you made it a goal to avoid falling for Alastor at all costs. Oh, how wrong you were for that.

Alastor had his eyes on you the minute he felt your presence near the hotel. You were unlike any other woman he had seen. You looked young and still full of life, so how could someone like you have died so carelessly? Not to mention, he did find you oddly attractive, and your calm demeanor was refreshing. He wanted you and in more ways than just your soul.

He knew the best way to any woman's heart was to court her and get her to fall for him slowly till she needed him and him alone. However, you were a tricky one to get under the skin of. You were so damn stubborn and stuck in your ways of being the lead in your own life that allowing him any control seemed futile. However, the challenge you possessed was all the more thrilling to him.

It started off simple: He escorted you around the hotel. He wanted to lead you around like a gentleman, but you had your own plans. As he talked and explained a specific part of the hotel, your attention was elsewhere in your explorations.

“Y/N, dearest, are you even paying attention?” he asked you sharply as you looked at the paintings for the millionth time since your arrival. You really wanted to listen to him, but this was kind of boring. After becoming close with the others, you were eager to hear more about their lives than be trapped with the man you swore not to sleep within this proximity to you.

“Sorry, Alastor. Yes, I am listening. I was just wondering about some of the paintings; they are quite pretty.” You were honest, at least in the fact that you enjoyed the paintings. Someone had a knack for art, and you were not shy to admit it. However, when you soon learned it was he who chose all the art minus a handful, you quickly shut down your praise.

The next time Alastor tried to win you over and claim your soul was when he began opening doors for you. He never thought the day would come when he saw someone challenge him so brazenly. However, that was probably the day he fell in love with you, as he allowed it to happen.

“Uh…Alastor, what are you doing?” You looked at the opened door with your arms crossed, your body still midstep from when he raced ahead to open the door.

“I am being a gentleman, Miss Y/N, that is all.” He looked so innocent, but you had heard more stories and learned so much about him from the shadows. He was no innocent man but a cold-blooded killer. You wouldn’t lie, though, that his past and present only made you that more attracted to the idea of him. You wanted him biblically, and it only made you hate his advances more, as you didn’t want to lose your soul.

“No, thank you, Alastor. I can open my own doors.” You quickly took the door from him, closing it and reopening it before walking through. The look on Alastor's face was akin to pain and frustration. He was not a fan of your independent attitude and was willing to bet he could break you before the year ended.

Alastor resorted to making sure you always walked on the right side of the road, that your chairs were pulled out for you, and that your food was pre-cut; he even went out of his way to acquire a simple ruby necklace for you to wear so others knew you were accounted for. However, you were stubborn and not taking on his advances. All you would give him was that Cheshire grin and stubbornly push his buttons by mimicking his chivalry with your version.

When it came to Alastors courting skills and all his advances, you managed to turn them down in the same stubborn way. However, it didn’t go amiss by Alastor that each turn down went from cold and distant worry to more playful and light-hearted jests on your part. Was it possible you were falling for him, too?

He admitted to himself a while ago, just as you had that the immediate attraction you two felt despite the age and generational gap was mutual. He didn’t know how to break you while you were too worried about becoming his next meal, even though the way he wanted to eat you was not how you were thinking.

That was until one fateful day when the hotel was barren except you two. You had sat perched in the library reading some trashy romance novel, hoping to get yourself off while Alastor was busy with his work. Busy working till his shadow happened to inform him of what you were reading.

The book you had chosen was interesting in that the main female lead was a time traveler who managed to end up in the olden times as a helpless damsel needing a strong man to care for her—the complete opposite of what you were as a person. However, you wouldn’t lie that the thought of letting Alastor take care of you wasn’t electrifying; it just went against everything you stood for.

However, reading the book and getting to the more intense sex scenes where the woman is restrained and taken care of sexually only caused you to feel more of a heated desire for the man who had plagued your thoughts since you made eye contact with him all those months ago. Sighing deeply, you flipped to the next page and moaned softly at the words, wishing it to be you. You wondered how long your and Alastor’s game of cat and mouse would play out until one caved.

Alastor entered the room and looked over your shoulder. He was enamored with you rutting into your leg as you read the heated pages. He smirked as a tentacle wrapped around your throat and pulled your attention up from the book to his eyeline. “My dear, what do we seem to have here?” He practically purred, and you whimpered softly.

You were already so close to release on your heel that you didn’t realize the pleas coming from your lips. You needed an older man badly; you needed Alastor—someone who would worship your body. As the pleas left your lips, it didn’t take long for Alastor to pounce on you, his pent-up desire for the independent brat growing.

Alastor wasted no time and already had your sleep shorts pooled at your ankles, ratty nightshirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. Your inner thighs were slick and glistening with arousal from your earlier menstruations while reading.

Alastor hummed in amusement, bending you over the couch, his cold tentacles holding you in place as he moved down your back. His soft breaths tickled you as much as they excited you. He hummed as he saw your pussy in full view, a smile growing on his face. He touched it softly, slick coating his hand as he spoke, “My dear, you are already soaking; you were thinking about me, weren’t you? Thinking about me taking you just like that man does in that book.” He smiled wider, lining his face with your slick. “All you had to do was ask, beautiful.”

A tender hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the soft plush of the couch arm, his other hand grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where Alastor’s face is lapping at your dripping cunt. Soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp his head, fingers tangling through the soft red and black locks, being mindful of his ears. He only grunts in response as he continues his onslaught on your most sensitive area.

What felt like minutes and hours at the same time passed; your legs were trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar. Your quiet, strained cries did nothing but aid the tightness in Alastor’s dress pants, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyond. Every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the fabric, sending a groan throughout your pussy.

Alastors noises vibrate against your cunt, shocking your overstimulated and oversensitive clit. All you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless and selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, you're begging for him to relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your core, and you writhe under his hands. The cold slick of his tentacles digs into your skin as he takes hold of your ankles and wrists now to keep you open.

Everything becomes overstimulating as the world begins to spin. Your jaw goes slack, and saliva pools in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips. Tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy, and your eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.

Alastor finally pulls his face away from the space he has claimed as his between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste gathering all of you he could. The tentacles held you tighter as he smirked and sat upright, admiring the mess he had made of you. A slick shimmer on his face as he licked his lips, “Delicious, better than any venison I have ever had, dove.”

As he stands up, his hand on your back pushes you back onto the couch arm. He kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him. His hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. A small yelp escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive area. Your frayed nerves against the soft material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases.

You whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen quickly before he pulls away from your hips. His movements are hasty, and he does not waste any more time as he uses more tentacles to help not only hold your wiggling form but also get his clothes off him. He liked this sight of your half-dressed attire as he held purchase over you, dominance you refused till now to give up.

Once he was undressed, he bleated softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubbed his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your willing slit. He groans at the tightness that welcomes him; the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of cum.

Your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cock is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your sweet spot as you feel him abuse your need for him. You can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls; they're practically ingrained in you as your pussy is molded to take his dick.

A creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he pushes his length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches. He doesn't give you time to compose yourself. He's selfish tonight, unapologetically so, because you had been toying with him for too long. After almost a year of cat and mouse, this is finally how he takes you. You drove him mad.

It isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistoning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. His pace isn't lovely; he's mean, relentless, and bruising.

"Fuck sweetheart, so needy for me; you could have just told me how much you wanted this from the get-go. Saved us both precious time," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. Claws out, he uses his hands, kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid using your cunt.

He was growing more and more pussy-drunk, drool forming in his mouth and pooling in his permanent smile, leaning over to place his lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. He pressed lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the marks and bruises from his teeth as his demonic form began to take precedence.

With how hard he was holding on to you with his hands and tentacles, you were covered in bruises. He was marking you as his not only with chivalry and jewels but pretty marks that will mar your skin for weeks. He tightened his hold around your throat, pulling you up to a sitting position. He pumped into you harder, watching your stomach grow with his length in you. He groaned heatedly as he transformed more; his hand was pulling you up while his other hand began pushing down on the spot on your belly where he was poking through.

As you both whined and felt relief, he growled in your ear, “I will make you all mine, my Doe. Not a single person can have you now.” He pushed harder for a few more pumps before you two were spilling over one another. He filled you to the brim, his seed spilling out before he could even pull out of you. With a satisfied hum, he let his body slowly return to normal as he slid out.

You were fucked out beyond belief. He smiled, gently picking you up and placing your clothes back on you. He held you in his arms and sighed, acting as if he didn’t just release eons of pent-up sexual tension on you. He snapped his fingers, redressing, and walked with you in his arms to his chambers. There, he would repeatedly remind you who you now truly belong to. Soul or not, he was the one to dominate the disobedient brat you were.

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bengals-barnesbabe · 23 days ago

Note

Can we get a text fic where Izzy asks her parents to go out on her first date. That side text chat between Joe and Y/N, write by you, would be so hilarious. I just KNOW it.

Daddy’s Little Girl

~ mini gossip girl AU ~

dad!joe burrow x mom!reader

Des: loved this ask from Feb, I tweaked it a bit, but I hope it lives up to your expectations anon :)

Can also be read as a standalone, Joe and the reader are married with four kids. Izzy (Isabelle) is their oldest at 13; they had her before they got married. Her younger brother (Jaxon) is 9.

TW: 18+ | langauge, overprotective dad vibes, kinda long, Joe lowkey losing his mind, annoying little brother, reader enjoying the chaos that is her life.

JB Masterlist | More from this AU

Morning Chat ~ Joe x Wifey

Afternoon ~ Family Chat

Evening Chat ~ Joe x Wifey

Family Chat

A/N: Lol, I think I just made everything worse. Hope yall liked it. Maybe I'll officially add Jaxon to the chat next time.😋 Like, Comment and Reblog for more <3

#bengals barnesbabe #joe burrow #joe burrow x black reader #mini gossip girl AU #joe burrow x reader #black reader #nfl imagine #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow bengals #text imagines #daddy's little girl #dad!joe burrow #husband!joe burrow #babe answers #first date

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nhmkhnh · 2 months ago

Text

older!vi x younger!fem!reader

preface: vi knew she shouldn’t fall for someone ten years younger— but then you smiled at her like she hung the damn stars.

author's note: just replaying the song "older" by isabel larosa, the moods was on and the inspiration hit, so i wrote, haha. i also have chat bot on janitor ai abt this topic (here!).

wrn: lowercase, age gap (v: 29; r: 19)

masterlist / janitor ai / c.ai / carrd

vi first noticed you during her downtime—something rare in itself. you were sitting at the back of a cozy piltover café, legs swinging, sipping a drink with so much whipped cream it defied gravity. your hair was tied in little bows. you were doodling on a napkin and chewing your straw. something about you made her stop walking. you looked like a dream—like something that shouldn’t exist in her world. she thought, jesus, she’s young. but then you looked up, caught her staring—and smiled. fuck.

vi tried to keep her distance. she's lived enough years and seen enough shit to know better. you were nineteen. still a baby. she told herself she’d get over it. but then you kept showing up—same café, same silly drinks, same playful energy. one day you sat at her table and said, “you look cool. like someone who’s been punched a lot but still wins.” vi stared at you like you'd grown a second head. “that a compliment, cupcake?” “totally,” you giggled. that’s when she realized: she was screwed.

the age gap lives in her head like a siren. when you get excited about a new lipstick or show her a silly meme, vi has to bite her tongue. you say stuff like “i just got into adulting!” while she’s thinking about the prison years she clawed through. you’re full of sparkles and soft pastel energy, and every time you throw your arms around her neck and kiss her cheek, she has to remind herself to breathe. you’re a baby. but you’re her baby. maybe.

vi is protective to an annoying degree. you think it’s cute—until she’s dragging you behind her when someone bumps into you. she scans every room you enter together like she’s on a mission. she once almost decked a guy for grabbing your wrist at a club. “vi!” you’d squeaked. “it’s fine!” she’d just growled, “no, it’s not.” she has this irrational belief that anyone who looks at you too long is trying to corrupt something pure. you laughed and said, “babe, i like chaos.” she muttered, “not on my watch.”

people talk. they always do. jinx teases her, caitlyn raises an eyebrow, even vander’s memory would probably side-eye her. “ten years?” someone once whispered when they saw you holding hands. vi heard it. she always hears it. but she never lets it reach you. instead, she smiles, squeezes your hand, and throws an arm around your shoulder. later, she grumbles to cait, “you think i don’t know the gap? but the kid’s smarter than half the people i’ve met. she's got more heart too.” and it’s true. you chose her. and she’ll defend that choice with fists if she has to.

you love teasing her. “you’re such an older woman,” you coo, eyes wide and mock-innocent. “do your knees hurt when we cuddle on the floor?” vi scowls and threatens to toss you out the window. but she secretly lives for it. you once called her “hot and milf-coded” and she nearly choked on her drink. you leave lipstick marks on her biceps on purpose. she pretends to be annoyed. but then she flexes that arm in the mirror later and smiles like an idiot. you ruin her. she lets you.

you wear crop tops with tiny strawberries. you twirl in skirts and ask her, “does this make my butt cute?” she short-circuits every damn time. there’s this constant push-and-pull in her chest: keep you safe and precious vs. throw you on the bed and make you cry her name. you don’t even know how dangerous you are. you hold her pinky like it’s sacred. you leave glitter on her bedsheets. and she lies awake thinking: i shouldn’t touch her. i shouldn’t want to. but i do. you ask her if you’re too much. she whispers, “never.”

she has a whole routine when you sleep over. you hog her pillow. you steal the covers. you sleep like a kitten—soft, warm, mumbling nonsense. vi never minds. she stays awake longer than you, just to watch. she brushes your hair behind your ear. traces the curve of your cheek. you’re everything she didn’t think she’d deserve. everything soft and sweet and stupidly good. one time you murmured “love you” half-asleep and she had to go to the kitchen and splash water on her face like she was in a movie.

meeting caitlyn was a trip. “is that her?” cait whispered with a grin when she saw you. “the one who makes you blush?” vi hissed, “don’t you dare.” you introduced yourself all sweet, and caitlyn just smiled. the two of you hit it off like besties and vi stood there, arms crossed, heart racing. she felt out of place—too rough, too loud, too her. but then you looked at her across the room, eyes full of affection, and mouthed mine. vi’s chest ached. she didn’t know how she got this lucky.

vi’s box under the bed has a lock. inside are your little notes: sticky tabs with “drink water or i’ll cry >:(”, doodles of her punching stars, napkins with your lipstick kiss. she keeps the bracelet you made from beads. the tiny heart you folded out of a candy wrapper. you make her feel seventeen again—but safe this time. you paint her nails. you bring her snacks. you kiss her scars like they don’t scare you. everyone says vi’s a fighter. but for you? she melts. completely. no armor. no fear. just her and the girl who made her heart soft again.

#vi x reader #violet x reader #fluff #headcanons #arcane #vi arcane

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lewisvinga · 1 year ago

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mi casa ! | lewis hamilton x dominican! reader

summary; in which y/n takes lewis w her to república dominicana

fc; maria isabel

warnings; ? one curse word i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

note; requested !

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; this the face of someone who flew for hours on a plane and is already sick of it.] [caption 2; guess where we’re going 🫣]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, and others !

yourusername: back en mi casa con mi amor ❤️ [in my home with my love]

tagged; lewishamilton

lewishamilton: ❤️ liked by yourusername !

username: RED HEART FOR FERRARI???

username: not them chilling in dr after the lewis to ferrari news came out 😭😭😭

username: latina mamiiiii😝

username: my carribean queen 💆‍♀️🏝️

username: island gyal

carmenmmundt: gorgeous as always 😍

yourusername: love uuuuu💗

username: my merc wags😞

username: GYAT

username: THE PICTURE OF LEWIS???

username: whatta fine couple holyyyyy

username: her body teaaaa

username: look at my goat’s gf dawg, she’s gorgeous😫

username: why his ass fatter than mine :/

yourusername: i’ve BEEN SAYING

username: LMAOOO

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and others !

lewishamilton: relaxing week in DR with you. ❤️

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: showing you my home was so dear to me 💗 love u sm lew 🫶🫶

lewishamilton: and i loved you showing me the island you grew up on. got to know the place behind the most wonderful girl in this world. love you, y/n💙❤️

username: he’s big chilling in dr

username: ik that man likes plantains

yourusername: trust, he loveddddd plantains!🤞🤞

username: TOLD Y’ALL HE’S LATINOOOO😫

username: MI GENTE LATINO✊

georgerussell63: make sure to get me a souvenir ! i want a keychain 😉

lewishamilton: i got you!

username: wait dr looks soooo pretty

username: BRAIDLESS LEWISSSS

username: ugh y/n is everything to me

username: chilling in DR after sending the f1 into chaos, i know who my goat is💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

username: y/n showing him república dominicana is everything to me❤️‍🩹

username: told y’all he’s for the latinas 🫣

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #lewis hamilton smau #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton scenarios #lewis hamilton imagine

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moonlitcelestial · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 23

Beyond the Lens - Logbook Videographer!Reader x OT8 Ateez

W/C 17,339

🎥 Series Masterlist 🎥

☽ Masterlist ☾

Inspiration Pictures

Pinterest Board Masterlist

Previous Chapter (Chapter 22)

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction. It is not meant to assume or mock anything about Ateez, Atiny, or anything relating to what I do not know about being a videographer. This story will follow several of the events that Ateez have done in the past year for Golden Hour Part 2, that being said I will not be able to include everything.

Contains she/her pronouns.

The logo in the center is mine. Please do not reuse or copy.

I strongly recommend looking at the inspiration pictures and the Pinterest boards linked above (which will be updating as the story goes on).

General Warnings: cussing, conflict, angst, fluff, and obliviousness.

CHAPTER WARNINGS - Chaos, mentions of a panic attack (not reader) and a little bit of spice.

This one is a long chapter 😅 Let me know what you think! <3 Moonie

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

You woke up with a start after falling in a dream. You glanced over and smacked your phone out of habit and realized that one, it wasn't going off and two, that you fell asleep with your glasses on. With a slight readjustment you could see better, albeit it was never 100%. You laughed at the boys' comments on your pictures from last night.

Because you were up early you could soak in the bathtub for a little bit and take off the plastic covering your tattoo. After a thorough soak in the tub and the gentle but painful peeling at the bandaid you moved around the space of your room and started your morning routine. When you were finished you put on the suit with the small slits on the bottom of your legs. When you checked yourself in the mirror you smiled at how professional you looked and felt.

The studio she chose was about a five minute walk from where you were staying. When you walked in you were met with the usual chaos of photoshoots that were very close to their runway debut. The makeup artists were scattered around doing touch ups on the three models while the stylists were arguing about which outfits to do first. Kim Bekker was coming out of one of the rooms off to the side, as soon as she caught sight of you she approached. She gave you a polite greeting and threw an exaggerated glare over her shoulder when one of the stylists got a little too loud.

“Please excuse the chaos, Y/n. We are absolutely thrilled you chose to come back and assist us with the newest line.” Kim was smiling radiantly at you as she approached.

“I have always loved working with you and Isabel so it was an easy choice on my end.”

“Y/n dear how are you?” You looked up to the woman who spoke. Isabel. Her hair was beautifully gray and styled perfectly. The smile on her face was contagious as she approached the pair of you with open arms. You accepted her hug and she looked you over after you separated.

“I’m doing well, you look amazing as always. How is the fashion life treating you?” She smiled at you and rolled her eyes lightly. You and her had always gotten along very well. She sometimes would call you personally to come do some of the shoots for her; especially with an event as big as men's fashion week.

“You flatter me. It has been going very well until the chaos started in preparation for these past few weeks. I have been running around like a crazy person.”

“I believe it, but the glimpses I have seen of the outfits look amazing. I can't wait to see how they come together.” You both stepped away from each other and started wandering around the set.

“Oh you'll like the theme we have this year, it is very rock-esque.” You looked over to her as she walked you back to the outfits that were being fiddled with by her assistants. The first thing you saw was the red and black outfits. It reminded you of your boys; they would have liked this line. You took a minute to look over the three men you would be taking the pictures of, their makeup artists had done an amazing job of bringing out their features.

“The floor is yours whenever you would like to begin Y/n.” You nodded to Isabel and started toward the set you would be shooting in. As soon as you walked in you saw some more of the crew setting things up and getting the lighting just right. It was absolute pandemonium in here, you almost couldn't watch how rough they were with the equipment. You made your way back into the other room and started getting yourself set up.

The black dual harness was the first thing you put on, then the lens holders got clipped around the straps of the harness. Finally you attached both of your cameras. When you had everything situated where it needed to be you looked over everyone. It was still almost too loud in here. You put your middle finger and thumb into your mouth to let out a sharp whistle to get everyone’s attention. It worked exactly as you wanted it to, everyone froze and looked over to you, even some of the people that were setting up in the other room.

“Good morning everyone, I’m Onyx, the designated picture snapper for today. I would like to get started as soon as we can so we can get as much time as possible for the shoots before the show later.” You looked over the models and the makeup artist who nodded along with you.

“I will be relying on the stylists to have each change of outfit ready to go as soon as the boys are finished and Isabel is happy with the results. If there are group shots it will be your job to coordinate them as I have not seen the entirety of the outfits before. I do not care if there is an order or not because all of the outfits will be getting their pictures taken, please act accordingly and do not get into bickering matches over the outfits and their order.” You shot a small glare over to the stylists who had been vehemently arguing earlier. They nodded to you just like the others did.

“With all of that being said, I look forward to working with all of you. Let's make this day go as smoothly as possible for us and for Isabel; who we all know needs a bit of calm within the chaos of Men’s Fashion Week.” There were a couple of cheers of excitement and a grateful smile from both Kim and Isabel. You made your way into the main portion of the building and waited a couple of minutes for the models. As soon as they stepped into the room you guided them into the set. With quick precision you gave them instructions about what they could do for the pictures. The three men caught on quickly and you were smiling and joking with them in no time, just like all of the rest of your clients.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

Most of your morning continued the same way, only having three models that you were doing pictures for made life so much easier. You had finished in a good amount of time to be able to rest before having to pack up and make your way over to the runway. You sent a picture of yourself holding your cameras to your group chat and they exploded with notifications of how good you looked and some of the boys asking how everything was going. You replied the best that you could to all of them before shutting off your phone and getting up. When you came out of the small break room there were still a couple of people here. Isabel being one of them.

“Y/n, do you need a ride over to the venue?”

“I had planned on catching a cab so I should be good.”

“Nonsense, you’ll ride with me and Kim.” Your eyes widened slightly at the demand in Isabel’s tone. She gave you a quick smile and motioned for you to follow her. You quickly followed and were met with a beautiful looking limo. The driver was already waiting for her and gave you a quizzical look as you also approached. You shrugged your shoulders at the man and he smiled at you, almost like he knew her games. When you settled into the seats she offered you a large smile. Kim had taken up residence next to Isabel and watched the two of you quietly.

“So, I have a question for you, my esteemed photographer.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all, but go on.” The two of them laughed and Kim handed you a small water which you gladly accepted.

“I know you have been doing well in the business out in Seoul. I trust your eye within the fashion industry, you know the arts and how they work. I have been meaning to ask since the last time we spoke but I haven’t had the chance. So I was wondering if you had any recommendations for people that would suit the style of my lines.”

Your eyes almost bugged out of your head and the sip of water you took nearly choked you. This was not something you could have ever expected from anyone, let alone one of the top fashion designers in the industry. You made sure to slowly swallow the water that almost ended up on the two women in front of you. There was one person that immediately came to mind, there also may have been a couple of others but they didn’t quite suit her style. “I have several people that I could recommend, but if I could choose someone who would do well with your style it would have to be Seonghwa Park with Ateez. He has an effortless beauty to him and he excels in genderless fashion, he would be an amazing asset to your model lines, and your brand.”

“An interesting choice, I will look into him.” She smiled softly at you and turned to look at her phone which had been going off nonstop since she got into the car.

Holy shit could this be real? A conversation of that magnitude just left like that. Fuck around.

You were in the car only for a couple more minutes before you reached your destination. As soon as you stepped out of the car you were almost swarmed by people that had already been lining up for the show. Some were shouting, others were shoving, it was absolute chaos. You switched your bag around to be in front of you as you made your way through the crowd. Isabel and Kim weren't too far behind you with a couple of men by their side. When you finally made it inside you let out a breath of relief. There were people running around and setting up chairs in the outside portion of the venue. Several stylists approached you and Isabel before you could make it past the front tables.

She was swept away from you and you followed the line of people to the outdoor space. When you stepped out you were met with people scrambling around trying to get the final touches done so they could do a small dress rehearsal. Without thinking you set your bag and blazer on a small bench off to the side and jumped in to help. Some of the people looked at you odd, others looked at you with thankful glances. You ended up helping for the next thirty minutes until it was perfect. Out of the corner of your eye you could have sworn someone was watching you. You paid it no mind as you grabbed your things to make your way to where you would be getting your shit together for the show.

The chaos was nowhere near as bad as Louis Vuitton had been but it was still chaos. Weaving in and out of the flow of moving bodies was almost second nature to you now. There were a couple of smiles you got from some of the models you recognized as you walked. Your setup in the back room was fairly quick and you immediately went back out into the storm.

When you stepped in you started moving around to get some behind the scenes shots for Isabel, she was one of the few people that liked when you did that. Before too long the back room was almost empty as they had begun the dress rehearsal. You watched from the spot you would be in as they were getting things taken care of. Most of the models were locked in professional mode, a couple of times you made faces at them to see if you could get a reaction out of them. They all let out small huffs of laughter, you knew they were filled with nervous energy, if you could help alleviate some of that you would. Almost every time they passed you gave them a thumbs up which made their facade crack just slightly. Someone was rooting for them, someone was looking at the people behind the outfits; which is what Isabel strived to achieve. That was why the two of you worked together so well.

Just a little while after rehearsal was done your stomach growled. You looked down at it like the damn thing was alive before pulling out your phone to see if anything looked good that you could order. Just as you were about to call a small restaurant someone called your name. You whipped around and were met with Kim. She had a small bag in her hand and offered it to you when she got close enough.

“Courtesy of Isabel. I had your order from last time saved so I hope you still like it” You took the bag from her with a grateful smile. It smelled absolutely delicious.

“Thank you, I was just about to call to order food.” She nodded at you and walked away before you could say anything else. You walked over to have a seat away from everyone else. Unpacking the bag made your stomach growl again, with a light laugh you started eating. Throughout the meal a couple of the staff had stopped by to thank you for helping earlier. You waved them off and told them something along the lines of, the quicker things get done the less we have to worry about it later.

When you had finished eating, found a nearby trash can and threw your things away. When you turned around you were met with the smiling face of one of the male models. You jumped back slightly and he just continued smiling.

“Hi, I’m sorry I scared you but you’re Onyx right?” Shit did you forget your name tag? You looked down and let out an inaudible sigh of relief, you hadn’t forgotten. He glanced down where your eyes caught and immediately his face got a little red.

“Yeah, that’s me. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was just wanting to introduce myself. I have followed your photography page for a while and love some of the work you have done, especially with the cats on your page.”

“Ohh, gotcha. Well Hi, I’m Onyx, as we have previously established. What's your name?” You held your hand out for him to shake and he took it.

“I’m Alexandre. If you don’t mind me asking, are the three big cats on your page yours?”

“Yeah, they’re my Maine Coons, Toothless, Mocha and Beans.”

“That’s so cool! I’m an avid lover of cats, so to meet someone who loves them too makes me so happy!” You let out a small laugh at his excitement.

“Finding them is few and far in between that’s for sure. What kind of cat do you have?”

“I have a bengal named Ben. He’s a little bit of an arse but he is super sweet.” He pulled out his phone and showed you a picture of the beautiful creature. You and he chatted for the next little bit about the many things that your cats did. It was right about then that San had messaged you with another video of the giants screaming at him in the kitchen. With a laugh you showed Alexandre. He cooed at your large children. Before you could even fathom the frame flipped to show San with a large smile on his face with the cats yelling in the background.

“You see what I have to deal with jagi?” The small gasp from Alexandre alerted you that he may have known who San was. You really should have fully watched the video before showing it to him.

“Is that—” before he could finish the thought you locked your phone.

“It might be, but he is just watching out for my cats, it's no big deal.” You were really hoping with everything you had in you that he couldn’t understand Korean.

“You know K-pop idols?”

“Yeah, I primarily work for them up in Seoul, doing fashion shoots is just something else under the large umbrella that I cover.”

“Wait, so you have met Ateez? And know them well enough that San, the resident cat lover, is watching your cats for you while you are here?”

“Yeah, something like that” You let out a small awkward chuckle, “I’ve been working with them for a while and when it came up that I needed a cat sitter he offered cause he misses his Byeol”

“Awh, Byeol, she is so precious. I wish we had more pictures of her.”

“Me too, so I take it you’re an Atiny?”

“Oh yeah, any time I get the chance I go see them for their shows. I might not be as avid as some people but their music is so much fun to listen to. How could I not like them, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s understandable.” Your eyes caught on someone approaching the two of you. As soon as Alexandre realized your eyes caught something behind him he turned around.

“We’ve been looking for you Alex, you’re needed so we can go over your outfits one more time before the show,” The woman, who you could assume was a stylist by the measuring tape hanging around her neck, had gently steered him away from you. Before he got too far he waved at you, which you returned.

Holy shit that was close. You shook your head and started moving toward where they were getting ready. With every opportunity you got you would be taking pictures, the people getting ready, the people steaming outfits, and Isabel who was doing some last minute changes. The guests should be arriving any minute now, the only thing you could do at this point was go and wait.

While you were standing in your designated spot several people came up to you and complimented your work, some of them had been people that you saw yesterday and others were complete strangers. Your mind tracked into no man's land as you were waiting. You wondered how long it took these people to get ready for an event like this, and then your mind trailed to if they sang in the shower while they got ready. The music started echoing throughout the open area and you straightened falling into professional mode. As Isabel came out you snapped several pictures of her, as did the other photographers in your midst.

The majority of the afternoon had carried on that way, your smile at the models had been constant. Some of them offered you a fractured glimpse of their gratefulness for your support. You were most likely the only one that caught it but as long as they knew they were appreciated you didn’t care.

When you had finished the runway you were whisked into cars with some of the other models and toted to the summer eyewear dinner. All of you had animatedly chatted about how well everything went. On more than one occasion you had told them you were proud of them which prompted a round of mostly concealed blushing. The smile never left your face as you entered the building with the models. Isabel and Kim had somehow gotten here before you did and were already making their rounds.

All of you split up and were waiting to do the photo shoots until Isabel had given the go ahead. You had mingled and handed out several business cards to other brand representatives. You sprinkled in taking more pictures as you wandered around the room, everyone was having fun; how could you not. When the time finally came for the official photoshoot you politely excused yourself from the small conversation someone pulled you into and made your way over to the designated spot. She made a small announcement to the people before you were given the go ahead to start doing your thing. What felt like minutes was actually hours, before you knew it you were helping tear things down at the end of the night. With everyone helping it didn't take you very long.

As you were saying your goodbyes after packing up your backpack Isabel approached you with a decent sized box. When you saw her coming you knew you were in for something that you really didn't need. You watched her approach you with a tilt of your head, she was just smiling at you as she held out the box. “Here, as a thank you for all you did today.”

You gently took the box and opened it, inside was a glasses case and a beautiful black leather jacket. You looked up at her with wide eyes. “Isabel I can't accept this, it's far too much.” You attempted to hand it back to her but she gently pushed it back into your hands.

“I would like for you to continue to work with us in the future, that means I have to treat you right in the present. Please take it, I'll be offended if you don't.” she gave you that look, one that you couldn't refuse. You set the box aside on a bench close to you and grabbed the glasses case. Inside there was a set of Isabel Marant sunglasses, but If you knew her collection there weren't any like these at all.

“Isabel, are these customs?” You looked up from the beautiful black with silver accent sunglasses that would fit over your normal glasses. She was looking at you with a wide smile which was all the answer you needed.

“Something for my favorite photographer, I know you have to struggle finding good pairs that have a decent lifetime so I figured why not give you some that I know are good quality. And you could be showing off my brand every time you wear them, it's really a win-win for the both of us. Also, that jacket is a part of one of my newest collections, I know it is your style so I wanted you to have it.” You couldn't believe that she would have gone this far for you. Of course you had seen how she treats others but being on the receiving end of it was something else entirely. You closed the case and pulled her into a hug, which she gladly accepted.

“Thank you, you really didn't have to do this. I truly appreciate it and cannot wait to continue working with you in the future.” She pulled away from you and put her hands on your shoulders.

“You are an amazing photographer, you have taken good care of me thus far and it was past time for me to do the same for you.” Your smile widened as you looked at her. With a small nod at you and a goodbye she took her leave. With gentle hands you took the presents she gave you and left back for your hotel.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

As soon as you walked into your room you set down the box and started jumping around like a mad woman. Having and making connections like the one you had with Isabel was something you had always wanted for yourself, and by extension your company. If words could have described the emotions you were feeling in that moment it would be overwhelming joy. You looked at the jacket, it was beautiful. The dark leather was soft, it had an asymmetrical look to it which is something you have always admired. It would be something that you would be able to wear on Ink. That might be the first thing you do when you get back. There was still a little bit of daylight out, and ever since you had gone on the walk and ran into the piano you had been craving to play. You changed out of your suit and threw on one of your comfortable outfits which consisted of a longer skirt with a slit up the thigh, a matching crop top and your beyond the lens ballcap. With a smile you made your way out and back the familiar way to the piano you saw yesterday.

When you got there no one was playing, you gladly took the seat and flourished like you normally did. You set up your phone on the side of the piano facing your hands like you always had when not playing at home. It first started so you could send it to your Granny, other times you used it to post on your private socials for friends and family to hear. When you started you had a smile on your face, all of the songs that came to mind were going to be love based, who cared if it was cliche. You started off by playing Golden Hour, something that you had continuously heard throughout your time on piano tiktok. Without missing a beat you fell into more songs. You continued into Perfect by Ed Sheeran, All of Me by John Legend, Girls like you by Maroon 5, Shut up and Dance by Walk the Moon, and Can’t Help Falling in Love by Elvis. Throughout the entire thing you had started gathering a crowd, your heart was overflowing with everything surrounding you. The majority of them had been singing and dancing along to the music while you let it take your body. You were swaying and laughing with the people surrounding you. There was one particular couple that you recognized, one that was newly engaged. You could tell they recognized you, they had been the closest to the piano while you played each of the songs. Before you could melt into another one the woman approached you.

“Could you maybe play a song for us?” You nodded to her with a large smile. “Do you know Rewrite the Stars?”

If your smile could have gotten bigger it would have, it was an excellent choice. With a nod you started the intro to the song. Before you could get too far you saw someone approaching the piano; it was someone you would recognize anywhere. Your eyes met and it was something out of a fairytale. Your world zeroed in on him, his face was mostly covered; but just like always his eyes gave him away. He was watching you as you played and he sang, and before you could stop yourself you joined him; it was one of your favorite musical numbers after all. It may not have been absolutely perfect but the reaction on his face was. His eyes widened at you while you sang with him. Everything intensified, you could feel your heartbeat; which may have been pounding out of your chest. You could feel the muscles in your fingers moving with precision across the keys of the piano. Years of playing this song over and over again came in handy because if muscle memory hadn't taken over you would have fumbled it. When the song came to an end everyone around you was clapping and cheering for the two of you, the woman who initially requested the song was almost in tears. You looked over to her with a large smile, she gave you a watery one back before looking over to her fiance; who was also widely smiling at you.

You watched him as the crowd was telling him how much of an amazing singer he was; if only they knew he was a famous singer. There was a lingering thought in the back of your mind. This was the perfect opportunity to show Hongjoong how much he meant to you. Music was something that he understood on a deep level, and to be able to do what you wanted you needed to pull out something from your past.

“This is going to be my last song for the day. I want to dedicate it to my special someone in the crowd. You are the reason I’ve made it this far.” you nodded slightly to him and he returned it not knowing what was in store for him.

“This song has a special place in my heart and I hope to share it with you. If you know the words please feel free to sing along.” You began the notes to the song your Papa used to sing to your Granny. As soon as you started the song Hongjoong’s eyes lit up with recognition. He moved to lean on the piano just watching you intently with his chin in the palm of his hand. Before he could even register anything other than the song, you were singing; by yourself this time. You watched his reactions, he seemed to have gone through the five stages of grief as you sang. You kept eye contact for as long as you could before having to look away and let the music roll through your mind, body, and soul.

The notes of Wonderwall echoed across the pavement and into the streets beyond. Your voice carried up above the notes coming from the large instrument you sat at. Your singing may have not been nearly as good as the man you dedicated this song to but you didn't care, all that mattered was that he knew it was from the bottom of your heart. The murmurs of the crowd had ceased as you started singing, their words caught in their throats at your soft but powerful tone of voice. You had told them to sing with you but they couldn’t, not when your voice sounded like something that could soothe the deepest wounds of the soul.

When you finished you looked up to Hongjoong who was absolutely beaming if the crinkle of his eyes above his mask was anything to go by. You took a bow and thanked everyone before grabbing your phone and turning off the recording. As soon as you had made your way away from the piano he rushed to you and gave you a hug. You laughed and wrapped your arms around him.

“Hi Naui Haneul (my Sky), I’m glad you made it okay.”

“Hi Nae Sarang (My Love), let's get heading back to our hotel. I want to take off this stupid mask.” You laughed and gently separated from him and grabbed his hand leading him back to your hotel. You both walked in comfortable silence. When the lady at the front desk saw you she smiled widely and lightly bowed her head to you. You returned the gesture before heading over to the elevators. After you finally made it into your room you turned around and looked over at Hongjoong who immediately took off his facemask and threw it somewhere before approaching you and bringing you into a kiss. He seemed to be pouring everything into it. His hands were gentle as he rubbed them up and down your sides, almost like he was reminding himself that you are actually here; that you were real. You melted farther into him with a small sigh of contentment. Before either of you could get any farther he separated himself from you and put his forehead against yours.

You looked at him fully now, he was in a casual outfit. His face was bare and you could tell that he had been running his hands through his hair a lot today. “I’ve missed you.”

‘Songbird, it's only been a few days.” You lightly chuckled at him and he let out a huff.

“That's too long.” You rolled your eyes at his statement. He lightly flexed his fingers on your side in warning. You let out a small squeak and pushed yourself away from him.

“Dont you fucking dare, you know I’ll kick your ass and I’m not above biting either.” He let out a loud laugh at your threat, like he knew you were mostly bluffing. The amusement lingered in his eyes as he approached you and pulled you into another hug. His arms made their way to wrap around your back and his head was on your shoulder; he was practically moulded to you. You stood there with him for a minute before you took in his posture. His shoulders had been just slightly slumped since you walked into the hotel room; a tell tale sign that he was tired. He was almost completely leaning on you at this point. You were glad to support him, something he wouldn't let other people see. The two of you were rocking side to side as you stood there, the entire thing was almost lulling you to sleep as well. His warm hands were on the sliver of skin between your skirt and crop top, the small calluses were rough against your skin which made you shiver slightly. He was gently tracing random shapes onto that skin and you could have sworn he traced a heart more than once.

“Are you tired Joongie?” You felt his responding nod against the juncture between your neck and shoulder where he had nuzzled himself into. “Want to go change out of your airport clothes and into some pjs and come back?”

He responded the same way before separating himself from you and moving toward the door. He exited and a door clicked across the hall. What did he pull to get a room so close to you? Before you could let the thought develop farther you moved to get changed into one of your sleep sets. With a half assed thought of messing with Hongjoong you put on your skeleton set. The most noticeable feature of this particular set was the skeleton hands holding your chest. Your movements were sluggish, the weight of the day was weighing on your entire body; the soreness had just started to register. Before you made it any farther you took some pain meds to alleviate it before it truly got started. When you were done changing and doing your nightly routine you moved over to the door and propped it open for Hongjoong to enter whenever he was finished. You plopped onto your stomach on the bed after plugging in your phone and started scrolling through all of the notifications. Most of them had been from the team and your boys. There were several follow requests on your personal accounts. Upon further inspection you realized that it was your boys. With a small smile you accepted each one of them. You started cutting up the footage of you playing the piano to post; it was something you knew the team, your mother, and now the boys would fawn over later.

“Wha– When did you get that?!” You jumped and turned to look over your shoulder at Hongjoong who was staring at your left leg.

“Love, my eyes are up here.” As soon as the words left your mouth his eyes immediately shot to yours and then back down to the back of your leg. It was really entertaining to see the shock on his face. His eyes were wide and his mouth parted just a little. He moved toward you and crawled onto the bed, his eyes were still locked on the back of your leg. He looked up at you, you nodded to him and he lightly ran his fingers over the lines of the fresh tattoo. Because it was so fresh you knew he would be able to feel the lines of ink on your skin. His touch was adoring as he traced the lines of the sword, flowers and koi.

“It’s dry, do you have any lotion?” you nodded and got up to retrieve the unscented balm specifically made for tattoo aftercare. He was holding out his hand expectantly. You set it in his awaiting palm and resumed your position on your stomach, you laid your head on your arms feeling the exhaustion from the day creeping in on you. The twisting of the top of the small jar was the only noise in the room, not even a second later the cold blam met your achilles. You let out a hiss through your teeth at the chill of it. Hongjoong stopped immediately after you made the noise.

“It’s okay, I just wasn't expecting the cold.” You looked over your shoulder at him. He let out a small sigh of relief and resumed what he was doing. His hands traveled up the back of your leg gently, his touch was reverent as he massaged the balm into your skin. Every once in a while he would get more balm on his hands but you noticed it wasn't as cold as it initially was. You turned your head and watched the focused man. He was warming it up between his hands before putting it on you. Your heart melted at the sight. How did you get this lucky. He was entirely focused on taking care of you, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth and his eyes solely focused on you. You kept your head turned to watch him, at one point he had taken some and applied it to his own ankle tattoo; which really didn't need it. You were just watching him with a small smile, his care was so quiet and gentle; one of the many things you loved about him.

When he had completed his mission he put the small jar on the bedside table on his side and turned to look at you. When his eyes met yours he smiled that cute little smile that looked so much like Jjoongrami. You turned on your side and opened your arm for him. His reaction was immediate; he crawled up the bed and cuddled as close to you as he could. He tucked himself under your arm facing you and half on top of you, his breath was tickling your collarbones as he put his head under your chin. You left a small kiss on his hairline before stretching behind you and turning off the light. He had blindly reached behind himself and tugged the covers up and over the both of you. Once the two of you were settled you squeezed him close.

“Thank you for taking care of me, I completely forgot I needed to do that; it's been a long hectic day.”

“Any time Nae Sarang (My Love), I’m happy you let me, it's not very often I get to take care of someone that willingly lets me.” A light laugh left you at the thought of the other boys’ reluctant acceptance of his quiet affection.

“I might roll my eyes at you or protest a little but I also know better than that, the years of being an Atiny taught me better; everyone knows you're stubborn. If they know the extent is questionable but it's very obvious.” He let out a small laugh of his own. His hands were tracing shapes on your back as you spoke. You could feel them getting slower and slower as he lost consciousness, before he was completely gone he placed a sweet kiss to your collarbone. You followed shortly after into dreamland, happy that you had him to cuddle instead of the plushies.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

The next morning you actually got to sleep in, something that was rare on these trips. Hongjoong hasn't moved from his position under your chin, you slowly pulled yourself away to look at him. His hair was just a little messy and his face completely relaxed. He looked peaceful, a stark contrast to normal. You took this opportunity to slightly baby him like he did to you last night. With gentle hands you combed your fingers through his hair, he shifted just barely but you know he wasn't waking up just yet. You would have laid here with him for hours if it meant that he got some decent sleep. You reached behind yourself and grabbed your phone to keep yourself occupied while he slept.

A little while later he stirred, when he did he pulled away from you and gave you a sleepy smile. You smiled back at him before resuming your gentle scratching of his scalp. He shut his eyes again and just basked in it, he let out a noise close to a hum as he shifted himself to be completely on top of you. You let out a small hum of your own as his warmth seeped farther into you.

“Good morning Joongie, did you sleep okay?” He nodded against you and before you knew it he fell back into a light sleep. You brought your phone back out and snapped a quick picture, making sure to catch Hetmongi in it as well. You shot it off to your group chat with the boys.

It was about an hour later that you noticed how hungry you were. You were so happy that Hongjoong was sleeping but at the same time you needed sustenance. You gently attempted to scoot him off of the top of you but to no avail, any time you even remotely shifted he would hug you tighter. You looked down at his sleeping face to see that his eyes were cracked open and he was already watching you. You snickered at him and tried to move again, he did most of the same thing but you could see the ghost of a smirk on his face now. In perfect comedic timing your stomach growled. He looked down at your stomach and back up at you with a grin.

“Hungry?”

“Not at all,” he rolled his eyes at your sarcasm before moving away from you and letting you get up. When you got up and stretched you caught him watching you, his eyes were caught on something on your hip. You looked down and realized your lyric tattoo was showing. With a quick glance back up at him you noticed that he was smiling smugly at you. You walked over to the end of the bed where he was sitting. His hands met your hips as you stood between his legs, his eyes were taking you in as you stood there looking down at him.

“You can look, I saw you watching me.” His hands gently moved your shirt up and he turned you to the side. He was looking over the top of the moon tarot and your lyric tattoo. He was just tracing his thumb over it, you could practically feel the gears turning in his head. He looked up at you from under his lashes and leaned forward to place a kiss on the center of your handwriting. He held eye contact with you, making sure that you were watching him while he appreciated you. His hands lightly squeezed your hips as he did so. There was a subtle heat that curled up your back while he kissed you. When he pulled away from placing the lingering kiss you could see the shift in his eyes into something just a little darker.

“You were ours before we even knew you, weren't you?” You nodded. His responding grin was beautifully disarming. His warm hands lingered on your bare skin, a significant contrast to the coolness of the room. He was looking up at you like he wanted to do something, before he could make up his mind you stepped away from him and to the small phone on your bedside table. With a quick flip to the breakfast menu you handed it to Hongjoong, when he decided what he wanted you called and ordered it.

You flopped onto the bed as soon as the call was done, Hongjoong moved to be hovering above you. He quietly held your gaze with something flickering in his eyes, you could feel the suspicion crawling its way up your spine; what was he up to? His eyes flickered from your lips back up to your eyes before he leaned in and captured them. There was a small noise of surprise that left you as he took the reins. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let your hands take their natural place in his hair. He groaned into the kiss while you scraped your nails gently across his scalp. The kiss was burning and intense as it continued, he ended up shifting to be completely above you by straddling your waist. You ran your hands from his hair down his back lightly scratching at him as you went. When your hands got to the bottom of his shirt you gently slipped them under it to feel his smooth skin. He shuttered and sat back just a little, you felt yourself chasing his lips as he leaned away from you.

Your eyes fluttered back open and what you saw above you was breathtaking. His eyes were dark and his hair slightly mussed, his face was a light shade of red and his smile was devastating. His hands were to either side of your head, the veins in his arms were becoming more prominent as time passed. The man in front of you was stunning as he looked down over you. It seemed to register then the top you were wearing, his eyes caught on the skeleton hands on your chest; the half assed thought of messing with him may have paid off.

“You wore this just to mess with me didn't you?” His tone was mostly teasing but you could sense the undercurrent of the captain coming out to play. His eyes moved back up to yours for a split second, you gave him a light nod which was all the confirmation he needed. He shifted to completely sit up before he let his hands cover the design on your chest. He gently squeezed, testing the weight of it in his hands. The breath was knocked out of you before you even had the chance to respond. You were sure that he could feel the rapid thumping of your heartbeat under his hands; just like he could feel the stuttering breath you took to center yourself before answering his question.

“Maybe, maybe not.” there was something in you that wanted to discover how much you could push his buttons. The responding look he gave you was filled with heat, his pupils had dilated just a little more than they were previously. He squeezed a little more and you let out another gasp, arching into his touch just barely. He leaned back down toward you with a smug smile moving one of his hands next to your head, you grabbed the back of his neck and brought his lips to yours. His citrus and woodsy cologne invaded your nose as you brought him close. You could feel the heat radiating from the both of you. It was a battle, mostly tongues and teeth as you kissed. The two of you were completely exploring the other. His hand gilded all over your sides and chest as you kissed. You let your hands roam as well, over his shoulders, back, pecs, stomach and back to his hair. Each part of you he touched you could feel the fire burning under your skin. His lips were slightly chapped as they moved against yours. Your kisses became more frantic as time went on, the hammering of your heart in your chest was almost overwhelming.

There was a knock at the door. The two of you immediately separated, he quickly moved over to the side and brought the blanket to cover himself. You got up and moved toward the door, as soon as you were out of his eyeshot you smiled to yourself at how wound up he was because of you. When you opened the door you were met with a smaller woman with a rolling trolly. She smiled as she came into the room and set the trays on the dresser just like the man had the other day. With a small smile and a quick nod to both of you she left.

You were grinning at Hongjoong as you brought the food over to him, he had a small bashful smile on his face while he watched you. When you set down the plate of food in front of him you moved to give him a kiss on his forehead before going back to grab yours. The two of you ate in relative silence too wrapped up in your own heads to speak to the other.

After the two of you finished up the breakfast you took his plate from him and set it outside the door. You grabbed your phone and started posting the several clips of you playing the piano from last night on your private account. As soon as you got them up there was a ping across the room. Hongjoong grabbed his phone and checked it, his smile was radiant as he unmuted the video he was watching; the one you just posted. Of course he had your notifications on. Your notifications started pinging not even a second later, with a large smile you looked at the videos you posted.

You shook your head at their antics. It hadn't even been a minute and your post had eight likes and comments from their personal accounts. Your other notifications started going off, in your chat with them they were praising your singing and your skills. With a glance up you found that you were already being watched; Hongjoong was regarding you with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him and started responding to the flurry of messages the best you could.

Through the morning the two of you just relaxed in the other’s presence. Hongjoong had disappeared across the hall and had grabbed his laptop and headphones to work on something from the comfort of your bed. You had since moved to the small desk to do some more editing of your own things. The two of you had a silent understanding that you could catch up on work without having to worry about your favorite chaotic people interrupting. You had been working on getting some final edits done on one of the last projects you had been working on before starting with the boys. This one had been something that took a lot of work on everyone’s end. You have been doing the edits to the video to make it as perfect as you could, this particular client was being very picky; which was a good thing and a bad thing. A good thing because the longer it took the more you got paid, a bad thing because you had to spend so much time on it fixing little minute things that barely made any difference. In the future you wouldn't be working with this client again.

Hongjoong had been doing much of the same thing behind you. The only difference was the person he was trying to impress was himself. He had been listening and bopping to the music while keeping an eye on you. You looked so peaceful while you worked, your hair cascading across your shoulders and the slightly hunched posture reminded him of himself. You had been meticulously staring at the video you were working on for the past little while, even his eyes were getting tired of seeing it. Without much of a thought he set his laptop on the other side of the bed and got up. He approached you and rested his hands on your shoulders rubbing them slightly. You tensed before realizing it was just Hongjoong. Tilting your head back into his stomach you looked up at him with a small smile.

“You want to take a break with me Shutterbug?” His smile was sweet as he continued to rub your shoulders.

“Honestly, that’s probably a good idea. I've been watching this on a loop for so long I think it may have burned itself into the back of my eyelids.”

“Alright, let's watch a movie and then we can get back to work.” You got up and looked around for one of your HDMI cords. If you could plug in your laptop to the tv you could stream a movie perfectly without having to worry about paying for it. As soon as you found it you celebrated with a small happy dance. You plugged the cord into the respective ports. When it was pulled up you moved through the movies and selected one that had been on your mind since yesterday when you were interrupted to play Rewrite the Stars. Tangled was one of your favorites, and if you had the chance you would have played I See The Light yesterday. After it was rolling you made your way over to the bed where Hongjoong was holding his arms open for you to cuddle up to his chest. You curled up against him and watched the beginning scene lightly singing along with it, you felt the rumble of Hongjoong’s chuckle against your ear as you sang.

As the movie went on you waited for your favorite numbers. Before Hongjoong could even fathom you were up and out of his arms and standing on the bed. You sang along animatedly to your second favorite song from the movie; I’ve Got a Dream. As the men were singing and doing their dancing number you were doing some of the moves while looking at Hongjoong. He was looking at you with something between shock, amusement, and worry. You were smiling at him and singing to him like a crazy person, when the number finished you flopped yourself back onto the bed making sure to avoid falling on him.

He was watching you with a smile, when you met his eyes he shook his head at you. Your laughter echoed off the walls at his amused grin, when you recovered you made yourself comfortable against him again. The two of you just sat and watched in comfortable silence up until your absolute favorite song came up. You didn’t really move from your spot this time but you felt him shift. The two of you looked at each other with wide eyes and you promptly burst into giggles but immediately quieted down when he sang to you. His voice, his unique and amazing voice meshed with Eugene’s as he sang to you. You just watched him as he sang, his eyes were sparkling like the dancing of new stars.

When the song came to an end you pulled him into a light kiss before turning back to the movie. What you missed however was the light blush on his face and his racing thoughts of how much he loved you. If you had been able to read his mind you would have been able to see how he struggled to express in words how much he adored you. Everything about you, from the dark to the light. You were a mixture of all of the men he loved so much. Wooyoung’s chaos and biting habits, San’s love for cats and his sweet nature, Seonghwa’s mothering, Yeosang’s quick witted responses, Yunho’s goofiness, Mingi’s passion, and Jongho’s no nonsense attitude and maybe some of his strength.

He could see a bit of himself in you as well; your love for music. In some of the small moments you have shared with him and the rest of the boys he has seen how you bop along to songs and how there is almost always something in your ear or over them; when you aren’t working. Just yesterday before you noticed him he saw how you played the piano, passionate and free. You had been beaming with the light of a thousand stars as you were watching the couples dance. He saw how you shined and he was in awe of you; and had been ever since the first moment you met.

He looked at you. How you were cuddled up to him, how you fit perfectly against his side, how your hands had found his and started messing with the rings he wore, more specifically his team ring. You were just so uniquely you, quiet, beautiful, joyful, chaotic; you. He wouldn’t trade this moment for the world, nor would he ever let you go.

You must have felt his stare because just as his thoughts drifted you looked up to him. Your eyes were shining behind your thick framed glasses, something that made you even cuter. He brushed a stray hair away from your face and just let his hand linger there. You could feel the heat from his hand seep into the skin of your cheek as he cupped it. His eyes were showing a rare vulnerability, it was almost as if you could see straight through him and into his soul. Your responding smile was immediate as you took him in while leaning into his gentle touch. You turned to kiss his palm and then back to watching the movie, you'd be damned if you missed the ending.

Between the time you stepped outside for a professional call and when you stepped back into the room from pacing the balcony Hongjoong had made himself a blanket and pillow nest on your bed with a suspicious amount of snacks. You looked at him with a tilt of your head and he just smiled not so innocently at you. You looked at your desk where you had left the remaining things you had gotten the other day and it was gone. The only thing was that there were too many of them for it to have just been your stash.

“Whose child did you steal from to get all of those snacks?” He looked at you with his brows furrowed and his head tilted. The look was comical especially since you could see the same look painted on Jjongrami’s face with your creative mind. You snickered at him when he patted the bed next to him to beckon you closer, with quick steps you got back into bed; making sure you avoided squishing the snacks.

What was supposed to be one movie turned into two, which turned into three. By the time you realized you had been in the middle of your fourth movie and the snacks had been almost completely demolished. It was late enough that you knew going out or ordering dinner would be a hassle so you settled for getting into your stash of ramyeon in your suitcase. Crawling out of bed you grabbed two bowls and started preparing it. While you were waiting for it to be finished a pair of arms wrapped around your stomach. You hummed and leaned back onto Hongjoong who started swaying with you. The two of you watched the microwave tick down second by second. When it beeped you pulled it out with practiced hands. Thankfully you had learned very quickly on how to not burn yourself after many failed attempts.

You both made your way back to the bed with chopsticks from your travel set and continued watching Rocky. Your evening continued much the same, the quiet was nice. No expectations, no cameras other than the occasional picture you would send to your boys, no expectations to be perfect, just the two of you sitting and basking in the passing moments. You both really hadn’t moved from your respective spots on the bed. While playing with his hands absentmindedly you felt an odd texture on his pinky nail. You looked down and sure enough there was a large chip out of the polish. Gently you separated yourself from him and walked into the bathroom for your small nail kit with black nail polish, cue tips and nail polish remover. You didn't even check to see if he was watching you, but as soon as you walked back in he was looking at you curiously as you approached the bed. Without a word you unzipped the bag dumping out the contents.

“What are you doing Treasure?” You looked up to him with a small smile.

“Your polish was chipped, definitely in no condition to go to a VIP event tomorrow, so I’m fixing it.” You took the nail polish remover and a cue tip to get off the preexisting nail polish. The movie continued in the background but all he could watch was you as you meticulously applied the black polish. You had expertly applied it making sure to not have any on his skin. When it came time for it to dry you frantically waved your hands above his to dry it quicker, even though it was a quick dry nail polish. After you were satisfied the first coat was dry enough you applied a second coat and a top coat.

“There! Now it wont go anywhere for a little while.” He held his hand up to inspect the job you had done. It was perfect, almost like it was professionally done. His eyes focused back on you and he could have melted. You were sitting there cross legged, your hair up in a messy bun, glasses sitting perfectly on your nose with bright eyes sparkling behind the thick frames. The smile you were wearing was soft and something he generally saw on Seonghwa’s face.

“Thank you, it looks perfect.” You could see the lingering emotions on his face, he was regarding you with a small smile and his eyes were shining. With a small kiss to the back of his hand you got up to bring your kist back to the bathroom.

When you checked your phone you noticed that it was nearing the time you generally would get ready for bed. Deciding to get your nightly routine over with you stayed in the bathroom to get ready so you wouldn't have to get back up.

Your nightly routine consisted of taking your vitamins, brushing your teeth, and a little skincare. You started moving methodically through the steps before the padding of feet caught your attention. Hongjoong was standing in the doorway watching you with a small smile. You were half way through washing your face and looked absolutely ridiculous with your headband pulling your hair away from your face and bubbles coating it like an extravagant bubble bath. He was watching you with raised eyebrows and before you knew it he was approaching you with a grin. When he got close enough he swiped some of the bubbles off of your face and blew them back at you. The small bubbles floated around briefly before popping. You snorted at him before turning back to wash off your face. When you did you made sure to be a little more careful of the water so you wouldn’t splash him. You heard him leave just a second later out the door and presumably to his room across the hall. You were applying a small amount of moisturizer when he came back into the bathroom. He set down a small carry case and it was chalked full of nightly routine things. Without a word he started doing his nightly routine too, you smiled at him through the mirror before he looked back up.

The domesticality of the entire thing had your heart in shambles. In the past you hadn’t had this with anyone, nothing even remotely similar. This is what you had seen in the rom coms and for all of the couples surrounding you. You yearned for the day it would happen to you, it was finally happening; something so small to others that was so big to you. You watched him go through the motions of his skincare routine, and without fail he caught your eyes in the mirror and raised his eyebrows at you. You shook your head at him and motioned for him to keep going. When he resumed his mission you grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste to brush your teeth.

The two of you had continued like this without words having to be spoken. A carefully curated dance was performed as you moved around each other. He disappeared before coming back with the balm for your tattoo. He knelt behind you and applied it like he had the night before. When both of you finished you walked out hand in hand and Hongjoong escorted you to the bed. He made sure you were comfortable before gently grabbing your glasses and putting them on his bedside table. With what little you could see you watched him move around the room quickly shutting things down. When he finally settled he turned off the light and cuddled up with you. You were pressed to his chest and his arms were slung around you protectively. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek while you laid there. His hand was combing through your hair gently and all you could focus on was him. You were being consumed by him, his touch, his smell, his heartbeat; absolutely everything. This may have been the quickest you’ve ever fallen asleep.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

You woke to an alarm that wasn’t yours. With a groan you lightly smacked Hongjoong who only tightened his hold on you with an airy chuckle.

“Good morning to you too Nae Sarang (my love).” He pressed a light kiss to your hairline before reaching behind him to turn off the offensive noise. When it had finally silenced you peeked your eyes open to see him very close to your face. Close enough that you could see him clearly with your shitty nearsightedness. He was looking at you with those adorable boba eyes and a smile; which just so happened to be contagious. You could feel the smile on your face break free the more that you looked at him. He placed a quick kiss on your nose before rolling out of the bed and walking to the bathroom. You turned around and checked your phone. It was fairly early, you had enough time to chill before you needed to get up and go to the shoot for Comme des Garçons. You scrolled on your social media looking over some of the most recent edits that your team had posted. A couple of minutes later Hongjoong appeared in front of you holding out your glasses. You took them from him and put them on before sitting up fully to take him in.

“I have to go coordinate with some of the staff and other people. I don't think I will be able to see you until the runway so be safe and keep me updated the best you can”

“I will do my best,” He smiled with a small nod before placing a peck on your lips.

“I love you Shutterbug”

“I love you too Songbird. Have a good day.”

“I will only if you do the same” He was walking out the door before he peeked his head back in and gave you a wink. If you had the time you would have questioned him. Your alarm started going off in your hand; you were half tempted to throw your phone away at this point. With a groan you got up, before you could even take a step there was a knock at your door. You padded toward the door and opened it expecting to see Hogjoong but it was a man holding a garment bag.

“A delivery for Miss Y/n Starling.” He handed the garment bag to you and gave you a small bow before making his way back to the elevator.

“Thank you!” you yelled after the man. He gave you a nod of his head as the elevator doors were closing. You moved toward the bed and set the garment bag down. There was another small note with your name written in a beautiful script. You pulled it out of the small clear pocket and opened it.

Shutterbug,

Don't be too mad with me but I wanted to match with you, even if it's subtle.

Your Songbird

You gently opened the garment bag and your eyes widened at the beautiful black suit with white buttons. The first thing you did was check the size, it was your exact measurements; that sly bastard. You marched over to the bathroom, closed the door and hung it up on the hook on the back of the door. With quick movements you changed, as you slipped it on you realized it was made of some of the best almost silky material. Once it was completely situated on your body you realized how perfect it was for you. You were looking at yourself in the mirror moving and twisting to see the range it had. The jacket was just snug enough that it didn't move too much but loose enough that you still had an exquisite range of movement. It was light which meant that you would most likely not overheat in it; which happened in most suits. The sleeves were adorned with a small line of white buttons and they fell perfectly on your wrists; the same buttons decorated the pockets and the front line of buttons down your torso. The pants were perfectly tailored around your waist and butt making them look really good. How the fuck did he pull this off? You would have to interrogate him later. This suit was most likely meant for today so you continued to get ready. When you were finally completely finished you grabbed your glasses chain and backpack. Slipping on your shoes you headed out of your room. You snatched a couple of things to eat on your way over to the venue for the shoots and runway.

When you got there the chaos was in full swing for the shoot. As you were walking by you almost ran into a couple of frantic stylists. Thankfully you had been paying attention because if you had been knocked off balance it would be a very detrimental and expensive mistake. You walked around looking for someone you recognized, as soon as you caught the eye of the manager you approached him. The poor man looked like he was going to lose his head. You gave him a light greeting and he jumped out of his skin but relaxed as he realized it was you.

“Onyx, thank god. Everything has gone awry this morning and I am so happy you are here.”

“Awry how, is there something I can help with?”

“The person that was supposed to be calling the shots has just informed us that she is sicker than a dog and can't be here. Rei is out dealing with something that happened at the venue. I have been panicking about everything ever since.”

“I see, well, I have had my fair share of calling shots, want me to assist?”

“You would do that?”

“Of course I would, I have had my fair share of chaos and have become a professional coordinator of the stuff. Especially handling the Louis Vuitton show a couple of days ago. I've got this, and you can help me with some of the finer details.” He wrapped you in a hug and let out a sigh of relief. You patted his back awkwardly and he released you beaming. You stepped away from him to grab a spare chair. You called everyone to attention just like you had for the other two shoots. A sharp whistle pierced the air and caught everyone’s attention.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen. I’m Onyx, your head photographer for today. I have been informed that you are down a very important person. I am going to be stepping into the role to help. I have been photographing fashion shoots for just about seven years and working with this brand for three so I mostly know how this goes but I will need all of you to bear with me as I figure out the details of this particular shoot. Staff, I am going to be relying on you to help me as best you can while managing everything that you have been assigned. I would like to request some kind of specific schedule for the day. I have a photographer's schedule but I will need more details to make things go as best we can. Stylists, I know everything is crazy and you are worried about the outfits but I need all of you to take a deep breath. You are doing amazing. Makeup artists, you are going to be helping each other out for touch ups as there seems to be a couple of you that are doing multiple jobs today. I will be also relying on you to keep the models in a halfway grounded state. Models, you are the stars, do not let the panic or chaos overwhelm you, we are all here for you and will be doing the best that we can to make sure this runs smoothly.” Everyone was nodding as you made it through the speech, the man next to you seemed to have calmed just a hair.

“I look forward to working with all of you. You are going to do amazing, so let's not panic too much okay? We have this.” The models let out a slight cheer, some of the more experienced ones you recognized gave you a grateful glance. Everything had been over the top when you arrived, and now it had slowed down. When you stepped past the large group of people you headed out to the main portion of the shoot area. A woman with a clipboard approached you while you were getting set up. She wordlessly handed it to you, it was a detailed list, something that had been written on presumably by the person who was out sick.

“Thank you, I assume you were their right hand?”

“Yes my name is Rosalie, I know most of how her brain works so I would be happy to help you out today.”

“You are godsend. You are more than welcome to take point, while I know a lot I don’t know quite enough about this shoot to be completely confident. At this point I am just a figurehead so everyone will calm the hell down.”

“Yeah, she has a way of doing what you just did which is why everyone responded to you so well. When she is gone it is absolute chaos.”

“I can tell, alright you have got this in the bag, if you need me to make anything change let me know.” Just as you were speaking the first model waltzed out. You smiled at him and started directing the shots. The woman next to you had been gathering and managing everyone perfectly. The chaos may have died down but you knew that this was only the beginning.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

A few hours later after many changes and pit stops to calm the chaos you were finally done. You were already worn the hell out but you needed to keep going. You wandered over to a quiet corner after taking off your harness and cameras and settled yourself down to see if you could find some calm in the storm of this shoot. You still had a few hours until you needed to be at the venue for the runway. You would be taking pictures and doing things beforehand as the vip guests arrived, which included Hongjoong. You slipped an earbud in and decided to call someone, you clicked on the first name that popped up and waited for him to pick up. Yunho and Mingi popped onto the screen with large smiles.

“Princess! How are you doing? Is everything going okay?”

“Hi loves, everything is absolute chaos but I am managing. How is everything for you?”

“It’s smoothed out quite a bit, we have been holding lots of dance practice and vocal lessons to fill the time. Most of our schedules have been pretty crammed with all of our small meetings and things. But we are managing too.” You looked down at the two of them with a small smile. They were sitting close together and there was a shuffle behind the phone, Yunho’s eyes caught on something before he scooted over. Jongho had peeked at the screen and gave you a small wave before turning back to whatever it was he was doing.

Someone burst into the room and before you knew it you were being moved out of Yunho’s hand and into Wooyoung’s “I knew I heard them say princess! Hi Y/n-nie!”

His boundless energy is something you wished you had in this moment. “Hi, Woo.”

“Yah! Give her back! She called us, not you!” You let out a snort of laughter at the demand in Mingi’s voice. You could see his furrowed eyebrows and the grabby hands he was making in your mind's eye. With a grumble he handed you back to the pair. Yunho seemed to be assessing you carefully through the phone.

“Haebalagi (Sunflower) are you okay? Something seems off.”

“I’m okay, Yuyu.” He tilted his head at you before reluctantly accepting the short answer you gave him. You watched the boys for a minute before hearing your name across the room. Your head flicked up and you caught sight of one of the stylists rushing toward you. You deafened the boys before standing up to greet the stylist.

“One of the new models is having a panic attack, something triggered them and we have been trying to get them out of it but nothing is working. The manager told me to come get you and that you would know what to do.”

“Fuck, okay.” You took off running with the stylist completely forgetting about the boys that were in your hand. As soon as you made it to the young model you sat on the floor with him. He was covered in smeared makeup and you could tell that he was overwhelmed.

“Everyone needs to back up. Someone get me some water, make it cold!” You yelled over your shoulder to someone who had taken off. After you had made sure that they had completely dispersed into small groups still watching you turned to look at the man sitting in front of you.

“Hi, I’m sure you remember me from earlier. Is it okay that I touch you?” He gave a quick, almost imperceptible nod. You gently grabbed his hands and laid them over your chest.

“Feel me and breathe with me.” He nodded again and tried to regulate with you. His eyes kept flickering to everyone surrounding you, it was still too much. Without thinking you scooted closer and murmured that you were going to take him somewhere else. You took off your jacket leaving yourself in just the vest, quickly you handed your things to the person nearest to you which just so happened to be Rosalie. You got up and squatted in front of the man and gave him a warning before picking him up in a princess carry. You walked out toward one of the empty rooms you noticed earlier and thanked whatever was up there that it was still empty.

In the chaos the boys were watching you with awe. Somehow in the mixture of everything the camera had gotten turned around and it was on you as you carried the man. Yunho had sat it on the table so they couldn’t be seen but kept watching as you cared for someone you didn’t even know. And boy were they impressed when you lifted the kid like he weighed nothing.

When you set the man down on the couch you could tell that he was already feeling better. Rosalie held out a cold water to you for him. You gently moved to put it on the back of his neck, hoping that the cool will shock his system back into regulation. Immediately he sagged like the string to his anxiety had been snapped.

“Hi that's it, everything is going to be okay, can you tell me your name?”

“Malo,” He was out of breath and his voice scratchy when he spoke. You nodded to him and took the water bottle away from the back of his neck and offered it to him after popping it open. With shaking hands he took it. You and Rosalie watched as he took down a couple gulps. The tension that was in him was almost completely gone at this point, leaving him looking exhausted. You tucked a couple of strands of his styled hair away from his face to see him.

“Malo, can you tell me what happened?”

“Everything got to be too much, normally I don’t have an issue with this but with the way today has gone I guess my mind got overwhelmed. The stylists and makeup artists were bickering, the other models were being too loud, the staff was trying to get everyone to pay attention so they could explain the next steps. I couldn’t even hear myself think.”

“Okay, I see. Well, why don’t you rest here with Rosalie for a little while while I go and take care of this.” He nodded and Rosalie handed you back your jacket and phone. You pocketed your phone in the vest pocket before putting the jacket over your arm and walking out. You marched down the hallway and were met with immediate chaos, some of the more quiet models approached you and asked if Malo was okay. You gave them a curt nod not breaking your stride. The stylists and makeup artists were chattering loudly in the corner and the staff were just resigned like they had been defeated. You took your stance on a chair and onto one of the clear makeup stations to get even more height. You nodded to them, they all gave you grateful nods back. A couple of them covered their ears while you let out a piercing whistle.

Everyone froze for the second time today, each and every one of their eyes fell to you. By some of their expressions they knew shit was about to go down. You were using your tattoos to seem just a little more intimidating, most of the time it worked; and it seemed like that hadn’t changed. You flattened out your blazer across your arm and cleared your throat before speaking in a loud authoritative tone. “Alright, listen up. I know your shot caller is not here. That being said, you do not need to act like out of control five year olds when their parents aren’t there. The chaos is absolutely fucking ridiculous and overwhelming, even for me and I have put up with far more chaos than all of you combined. All of you know how to act like professionals so fucking act like professionals. I have not seen this amount of chaos in a long time, and the last time someone got hurt. Which is where you are heading now if you don’t tone it the hell down. You are going to listen to the staff whether you like it or not because they are the ones who have the ins and outs of what you lot of children are going to be doing. They also have a say if you get rehired for the next show based on their recommendations. With the way things are going the next time I work for this brand I will not see you again. So, listen to the staff, and shape the hell up or so help me I will put in a personal call in to Rei. And if that doesn’t work I will get a list of all of you, names and all, to each company I have a rapport with such as Louis Vuitton and Isabel Marant to make sure you never get hired. Do I make myself crystal fucking clear?”

It was so silent you could hear a pin drop in that room. All of the people were staring at you with wide eyes and some with their mouths slightly agape. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the smirks on the staffs’ faces. “Do I make myself clear?”

They nodded and you heard a chorus of yes mamm and yes. You stepped down with the help of one of the models and marched down the hallway back where you came from. When you turned to step into the room you saw Rosalie standing close to the door jam and Malo sitting on the couch.

“You are a badass.” Malo’s small statement made you laugh as he scooted over to let you sit. You plopped yourself onto the couch and pulled out your phone. All you could see was the ceiling of a room. You clicked the button to see if you could hear your boys. The chatter was immediate but over everything else you could hear Wooyoung.

“Yah! Do you think she would boss us around like that?”

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” You are so happy you kept your earbuds in because this was not something that anyone should hear. You cleared your throat and almost immediately heads started popping into the frame. Wooyoung first, then San, Mingi, and Yunho, and finally Seonghwa, Jongho and Yeosang. You snickered and took a screenshot of them while they looked down at the phone.

“Muse, is Malo okay?” You nodded at them more specifically at Mingi who asked.

“Would you like to see for yourself?” They all exchanged glances and seemed to be communicating silently between each other. Yunho was the one to pick up the phone and situate it so it was facing the couch they had been sitting on. Upon further inspection you realized it was your KQ office. Yunho nodded to you before situating himself between Mingi and Wooyoung. You muted yourself and turned to Malo.

“Malo, some of my friends who were on the phone with me when I was called away are asking if they could see if you were okay. They saw everything and are worried for you. If you aren't comfortable with that, it's okay.” He looked at you in shock before straightening himself out a little bit. He wiped his face and tried to clear himself of the smeared eyeliner. You were watching him carefully before he nodded to you.

“I will warn you, they are still learning English, so there is a chance that I will have to translate for you.” He nodded at you again, seemingly steeling himself. You took out your earbud and unmuted yourself before scooting closer to Malo to get him in the frame with you.

“Boys, this is Malo. Malo, this is Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho.” All of them gave a small wave and Malo looked like he was about to jump out of his skin.

“We heard what happened, are you okay?” San was the one to speak up first, his accent was thick as he spoke. You had to fight your smile at how good he was getting. Malo was looking between you and the screen quickly. You were keeping everyone in your view and you could tell the boys may have been just a hair smug that Malo recognized them.

Malo stuttered out that he was okay, and somewhere between everything they had started up a small conversation about the stress before a performance. Sometimes you had to step in and help your boys out with a word if they struggled. The conversation continued for a few minutes before someone interrupted the boys. All of their heads shot up and looked over to who had walked in the room. You watched as Forrest popped into the screen. You laughed at his confused look when he took you and Malo in.

“Hi tree boy, having fun without me?” You could feel his eye roll from across the world. He flipped you off before disappearing.

This time Seonghwa spoke to you in Korean. “We have to get to our schedule, that's why Forrest is here. We love you and hope your day gets a little better.” You nodded and repeated the sentiment to the boys who echoed you. They waved to Malo giving him a goodbye before Yunho hung up the phone.

“You know Ateez?” He was looking at you in shock, much like he had been when you showed him your phone.

“Yeah, I am their logbook videographer. We were talking about some of the schedules they have for when I get back to Korea when I was called away. I must have forgotten to hang up in my rush to get to you.”

“That’s awesome!” You smiled at him, happy that you could bring up his mood a little. In the other room you could hear some of the people calling for you and Rosalie. You glanced at her and she was rolling her eyes; you let out a small snort and got up. You were met with the manager, he was explaining something to Rosalie who had stepped out first. He nodded to you with a smile and rushed off.

“The cars are here to take all of us over.”

“Perfect, let me go grab my things and I’ll meet you outside.” she nodded to you and you turned to look at Malo, he was standing and just a step behind you as you left.

“Find a stylist and makeup artist you are comfortable with and stick with them. If anything gets to be too much and you feel yourself falling into that headspace find me, or have someone find me.” You looked over your shoulder and he was nodding at you. When you reached the main portion of the building the room was mostly quiet and a lot of the people gave you a wide berth as you walked through. You grabbed your harness and put it on before sliding your blazer back over it; with quick movements you were packed up and ready to start moving. Rosalie had approached you and matched your stride as you went up to the front of the room where the staff were organizing models, makeup artists, and stylists. You watched with a smile as they quietly obeyed and kept organized. Once everyone was out and to the cars there was only you Rosalie, the manager and a few staff left. No words had to be spoken as you followed the staff.

There was some quiet chatter in the car as you drove, you messaged Hongjoong letting him know you were heading over to the venue for the runway. When you stepped out you could see the barricade for the people that were lining up to see the celebrities. When you stepped out you straightened yourself and slid on your professional mask. You had to get inside and then you would be back out in the lobby to take pictures as the people entered. Once that was finished you would be front and center taking pictures of the runway. Rei was here so you wouldn't have to worry too much about the chaos, not that you hadn’t scared them straight. When you got into the venue you made your way backstage to leave your things. As soon as you were finished you made sure to seek Malo out to see how he was faring. You saw him sitting with a makeup artist who was gently fixing him up, the small smile on his face told you all you needed to know.

You stepped outside the venue to check if there were people already here, you were met with many people yelling and screaming. There were already a couple of people that pulled up; Hongjoong among them. They had made it early. He was fast approaching where you were. His expression faltered just a minute before he looked at you over the sunglasses he was wearing. You had your phone in your hand and snapped a couple of pictures (1)(2) of the small smirk he was giving you. With a small wink to him you tucked your phone away and moved back into the building. There was already someone waiting for you as you approached. You fell into professional mode and everything else faded from you.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

Everything stopped when I saw her; our Y/n. She looked stunning in the suit I got for her. The wink she gave after she snapped a couple of pictures screamed mischief. I couldn't let myself falter, but I did feel the small heat climbing up the back of my neck. I smiled at the other Atiny before heading into the venue. As soon as I stepped in there she was. I stopped completely which prompted a hand on my shoulder to keep me moving. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the smirk on my manager’s face. He was one of the few people that knew and had been teasing me since we got here; especially since I had not been in our shared room unless absolutely necessary. The suit looked perfect for her, the waist was exquisitely tailored to capture the curves beneath. The white buttons, which were some of the spare ones from my outfit, stood out against the black. When she turned to look at me her smile was radiant as she motioned for me to stand in front of the white background. A flash of silver caught my eye and I noticed the chain hanging from her glasses, it was simple but adorned with stars and moons. Her hair was swept up and away from her face and there was something hanging down over her shoulder like one of our in-ears. She was wearing a harness (it's not the right colors but please bear with me, I saw it and fell in love with it) under her blazer but over her vest. It was as black as the suit but silver thread was what made it stand out against everything else. It spanned from her shoulders and the bottom of it was across her stomach adorned beautifully with silver accents. It was giving you the look of a corset without actually wearing one.

“Hi, I’m Onyx the head photographer, nice to meet you.” I could see the coy look on her face as she held her hand out for me to shake. She was speaking perfect Korean, her accent was just barely noticeable as she spoke. I took her hand and shook it, she gently squeezed my hand as I did. The smile never left her face as she stepped back.

“Feel free to do any poses you like, I will get them to you as soon as I can. Or if you would prefer I could take some with your phone as well. I believe we have a little time before anyone else gets here.” I took out my phone and handed it to her, she smiled wider as she started taking pictures. I posed and she got several angles. You could tell she was enjoying being able to do this. When she was seemingly satisfied she gently handed the phone back to me.

“You look stunning Nae Sarang (My Love),” her face immediately went a light shade of pink at the blatant compliment, even if most of the people around couldn't understand Korean.

“Thank you, you look very handsome yourself. Of course the shoes are a bit out of my taste, Naui Haneul (my Sky).” My manager was the first one to laugh, she was snickering and I shook my head at her before letting the laughter bubbling up my throat go. We were standing there just laughing before someone else came in and approached. Her demeanor changed as soon as they approached.

“It was wonderful being able to take your pictures, if you follow the signs farther into the venue someone will escort you to your seat. Have a wonderful time, we hope you like the show.” I nodded and thanked her before stepping away, almost disappointed at how quickly she changed into a professional. My manager was steering me around with a light hand on my shoulder.

“She has you wrapped around her pinky. Don't think I didn't notice the buttons.” With a quick glance at him I lightly rolled my eyes and kept moving. I could feel the way she held my hand as she fixed the nail polish last night. Her touch was gentle and caring. I took a glance down at my pinky and it still looked as amazing as it did right after she did it.

“Hyung, you only noticed the buttons because you have been with me and helped with the outfit. If you hung out with her more you would understand.”

“I’ve seen how she is with you and the boys. I see how she melds into your group. I’ve also seen how she makes you and the rest of them blush like schoolgirls. She's got wit and class, definitely a keeper; especially if she can wrangle the eight of you.”

“I don't plan on letting her go,” As I finished speaking we entered the main portion of the venue. I gave my name to the gentleman standing at the door and he nodded and motioned for us to follow. He was talking just a bit about the show but all of it went in one ear and out the other. All I could focus on was her, how she really did fit into our dynamic perfectly. She had melded with us so seamlessly that you would have thought we were together for far longer than we have been. My manager gave me a pat on the shoulder as I sat.

“I will be around, if you need anything you know how to get a hold of me.”

“Thank you, hyung. See you in a bit.”

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

Before the show started she was just taking pictures. Something possessed me to grab my phone and take a picture of her. With quick movements I caught a photo of her taking a picture. She was smiling while taking the picture of friends reuniting. As soon as the music changed she turned around and caught my eyes. She gave me a barely perceptible nod and a small smile before turning to face the runway.

I watched with fascination the looks that were walking, but more often than not I was looking at her. She was switching between the cameras that were at her side. Her movements were graceful while she was constantly moving. She had been speaking throughout the show, it correlated with when the models walked. I didn't realize that was a part of her repertoire or something that a photographer normally did; I guess I would have to pay more attention. Between shots she took off her glasses and immediately dropped them before putting her camera back up to her face. I had to suppress my surprised reaction and the need to get up and catch them. The chain she wore caught them and held them against her chest. I had seen the chains as decorations more often than not but to see it be used like that was foreign.

The show was done a little while later, I got to watch her as she was approached by several people. Most of the people were gone by this time, my manager had lingered around waiting for me to let him know I was good to go. She was politely greeting many of the models and one of them hugged her as soon as he got close enough. That was odd, all of the other models hadn’t done that. She was laughing as she hugged him back. Something burning flared in my chest. Why was he hugging her? What had happened between the two of them to make them that close? She separated herself from him and put her hands on his shoulders and said something to him that made him laugh. Everyone around the two of them burst into laughter as well. They stayed close as they continued to talk to everyone.

He was lingering too close to our treasure and I couldn't do anything about it without possibly exposing our relationship. Watching their interactions made something crawl up the back of my throat. With a quick nod to my manager we left. Thankfully no one asked any questions on the ride back to the hotel.

★☆☽ O ☾☆★

When Malo approached and pulled you into a hug you were surprised to say the least; nonetheless you hugged him back.

“Look at you getting through the chaos.” He rolled his eyes at you and burst into laughter with the rest of the people surrounding you. All of you chatted about how the show went and the various recountings of their day. You were nodding and adding your own things in when you could. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Hongjoong leaving. Shortly after you caught sight of Rei approaching your group. She smiled and handed you a box.

“Thank you for stepping into the role we needed today. I received many amazing reports from the staff about how well you handled everything. I want you to have these.” She handed you a box, when you opened it your heart leapt to your throat. Inside the box were two necklaces (1)(2) and a small set of earrings, immediately after you knew they were a call to your namesake; onyx. Without a thought you bowed to her when you raised you threw your arms around her. The older woman chuckled before returning the hug.

“Thank you, truly.” She nodded to you before she was called away by one of the lingering people. Some of the people surrounding you dispersed and you made your way over backstage. You packed up your things and started out of the venue, on the way you passed Rosalie who gave you a wave before returning to her conversation. After you were out in the warm air of the night you smiled to yourself, today may have been hectic as all hell but you made it through. With a wave of your hand you hailed a cab and headed back to the hotel.

When you finally made it back you caught sight of a couple of people, one of them was wearing a very interesting pair of shoes. You immediately knew it was Hongjoong and his manager. You walked a little faster and tried to catch the elevator. Your eyes met Hongjoong’s before the doors closed, he didn't move to stop them; he just stood there watching you.

After they closed you frowned just a little, that was weird. You waited patiently for the next elevator to arrive before pushing the button to your floor. When you stepped off you felt something in your chest. Something you couldn't quite place. You made it to your hotel door and opened it before getting things situated like normal before getting ready for bed. Gently you took off the beautiful suit and hung it before changing into your pjs. After you changed you just admired the suit. It really was beautiful, Hongjoong had an immaculate taste in clothes. When you finished looking over the suit you moved to lay in bed. Your mind started to wander as you laid there and winded down. What had happened between your first interaction and now to prompt him to be this way? Checking your phone did little to alleviate the ache that settled in your chest. You half expected a knock on the door from Hongjoong; but it never came.

After a while of mindless scrolling you set your phone aside and snuggled deeper into your bed. You searched around and grabbed the Jjongrami and Hetmongi. With them cuddled up to your chest you laid there replaying everything. What had you done to make him not want to come to your room like he had since he got here. Your mind turned over and over not letting you get to sleep; it took you forcing yourself to relax to get there. The ache still lingered but as you fell further into unconsciousness it subsided. A brief hope that it would be gone by morning was echoing like a church bell after its last toll for the day.

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

Next Chapter (Chapter 24)

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raven-dor · 11 months ago

Text

there he goes

In which conrad fisher makes up with his best friend, and she realizes that she has feelings for him

PAIRING: conrad fisher x reader, jeremiah fisher x PLATONIC!reader, isabel conklin x PLATONIC!reader, steven conklin x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: allusions to a past argument, heartbreaking fluff, angst, one-sided crush, underage drinking, loneliness

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

🎶 : there she goes - the la's

AN: ♥️💗 - this is an excerpt from a WIP on wattpad!! just wanted to get a feel and see if anyone would be interested in this even being published<3

Laurel laughed at the spread on the kitchen counter. "I thought we were keeping dinner simple."

"It's Belly's sweet 16. Is Connie done shucking the corn?"

Y/N shrugged, filling up the vases for the flowers. "I don't think so."

Susannah sighed. "Can you go check for me?"

She nodded. "Sure." She pushed open the kitchen door and walked slowly down the steps to the landing. Conrad looked up, smiling lightly.

"Your mom sent me down here to see if you're almost done shucking the corn." She looked behind him, noticing that there were only three left. "I'll let her know." She turned back around, walking back up the steps.

Conrad called out. "Y/N/N..."

She stopped but didn't turn around. "Yeah?"

"I- I'm sorry." She took another step up the stairs, a hand wrapping around her wrist. Her breath hitched, and he slowly turned her around. She tried to look anywhere but his eyes. He had always made her break when she looked into his eyes. "Y/N/N, look at me, please."

"I can't." She shook her head. "You know I can't."

"Y/N/N..."

She shook her head, turning back around. "We can talk later, Conrad."

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N. For everything." He stood at the bottom of the steps, watching as she turned around. "I'm sorry for everything."

She sighed. "Why are you being so mean?"

He shook his head. "I'm not being mean-"

She walked down, meeting him at the bottom. "I don't mean right now. I meant in general. Trust me, I get it. You're dealing with a lot." She looked up at him delicately. "But why did you do that?"

He reached his hand out, grabbing hers, studying the way her fingers looked. "I just- I didn't want to hurt you more. Because I was-"

"That's what I'm here for." She smiled. "Not for you to hurt, of course-"

He nodded. "I got it. I'll never hurt you again."

She laughed, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "Don't make promises that you can't keep."

A voice coughed, and she jumped, pulling out of Conrad's reach. "I- I'm going back inside." She rushed up the stairs, through the kitchen, and onto her bed.

She grabbed her pillow, screaming into it. "What is happening to me?"

Y/N settled into her seat, grabbing a lobster and some salad. Since Cam was now sitting in her normal spot, she was placed in between Susannah and Conrad, not that she minded. Conrad's leg nudged hers, laughing at her flower crown.

"You look-"

"So Cam!" Jeremiah interrupted the comforting chaos that had erupted, the table quieting. "You mind if I call you Cam Cameron?"

Cam laughed. "Yeah, man. Feel free, that's funny."

Susannah smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Cameron. I know your mom, Denise, from the club."

"Thank you so much for having me, Susannah! My mom says hi."

Laurel walked in, handing out her homemade miyeok-guk.

"Cam, have you ever had miyeok-guk before? It's a Korean birthday tradition."

He shook his head, grabbing the bowl from her. "No, it looks so good, though. Thank you."

"Belly told me you're vegetarian, so I didn't put any meat in it."

Cam smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Laurel, geez."

Jeremiah interrupted again. "Why don't you eat meat, Cam Cameron?"

"Uh, the meat industry is like the number one contributor to global warming. And I just like animals."

Jeremiah tilted his head. "Hm."

Taylor grinned, looking down the table. "Just don't come for my leather jacket."

Steven muttered. "I'm pretty sure you mean pleather."

Jeremiah laughed. "Ooh!"

Taylor flipped him off, the boys laughing at her actions.

"You know, Belly eats meat. So, you let her kiss you with those lips?"

She groaned, shaking her head. "Guys..."

Cameron shook his head. "No, I don't judge people for eating meat. It's just a personal choice. I don't care."

"So you don't mind if her lips touch a dead animal, and then those dead animal lips touch your lips, right?"

Belly smiled tightly, kicking Jeremiah under the table. He winced.

"I don't mind at all. Um, in fact..." He leaned over, kissing Belly lightly. Y/N smiled. It was nice to see he wasn't giving in to the bullying. Or teasing, as Jeremiah and Steven called it.

The boys started gagging, and Y/N glared at them. "Can you not? I'm trying to eat. I don't need gagging noises in the background."

Jeremiah smiled guiltily. Steven spoke up this time. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand why anybody would want to kiss somebody who once fully shat in a bathtub."

Y/N sat down her fork, glaring at the younger boy. "Really, Steven? We're trying to eat here." Conrad laughed.

Belly glared at her brother. "I was like two years old."

Steven's face contorted. "Two, more like six."

Laurel stared at her son, signaling him to stop. "Shut up, Steven."

Taylor sat forward. "I remember when I visited last summer, and you and you," She pointed at the Fisher boys. "Dared him to pee in the fireplace, and you stunk up the entire house for days. Do you remember that?"

Y/N laughed, holding her stomach. "God, that was horrible."

Steven sighed. "We were drunk. We were drunk."

Belly rolled her eyes. "On like half a White Claw." She laughed, looking over at Taylor. "You know, I'm thinking maybe we should go to Nicole's party."

Conrad looked down at his plate, playing with his food. Y/N cleared her throat. "You okay, Connie?"

He nodded, but she could tell that he didn't love the idea of everyone being there. Or maybe it was the idea of Belly and Nicole being in the same room.

Either way, her stomach was twisting, too. Just for different reasons.

Y/N tried to contain her laughter as Steven and Jeremiah screamed the lyrics to "We Are Never Getting Back Together." They had quite literally only been in the car for five minutes before Steven snatched the phone from Jeremiah's hands and put on Taylor Swift.

They pulled up to the house, parking on the side of the driveway. Steven whipped around, glaring playfully at the two in the back. "Do not ever tell Belly I did that."

"Sure, Steven." She grinned, holding up her crossed fingers. "Promise."

Conrad laughed, shutting the car door. "No promises, man."

Y/N laughed alongside him, humming. "Wonder if Belly's here yet."

Conrad shrugged, pulling her towards the kitchen. "I need a drink."

Y/N sighed, following silently. His shoulders were tense, and he was constantly looking over his shoulder. She just hoped that-

"Conrad!"

And there was Nicole. She looked gorgeous and Y/N... well she felt underdressed now. Nicole turned towards the girl, smiling just as wide. "Hey Y/N, cute top."

She was so nice. Y/N took a quick sip of her beer, smiling. "Thank you. Pacsun."

Nicole nodded, looking engaged, but Y/N knew she wanted time with Conrad. She smiled again and walked backward. "I'm gonna go find Jere."

Conrad tilted his head. "We just got here. Give me two seconds, and then I'll come with you."

"No! I mean..." She laughed awkwardly. "It's fine. I have to talk to him about something anyway. I'll see you in a bit."

She stumbled through the crowd, almost smiling at who she ran into. "Taylor, hey!"

Taylor smiled blankly, glaring at her drink. "I met Nicole."

She laughed, looking out at the crowd of drunk teenagers. "Not a fan?"

"I—" she huffed. I know we aren't that close, Y/N, but can I tell you something?"

She nodded quickly.

"I feel like I'm losing her. Belly."

She sighed, facing Taylor. "You're not going to lose her. You're best friends. She'll always need you. Besides, Nicole is just doing her 'big sister' duties. She's not going to steal her. I don't think anyone could do that." She stared back at the crowd. "Trust me."

Taylor hummed, and they stood in silence for what seemed like forever. Y/N huffed, looking over at the younger girl. "I'm going to go find Belly. You want to come with?"

Taylor shook her head, and Y/N walked away towards the foyer. "So Nicole, you and Conrad a thing or what?"

She stopped, listening in on their conversation. "I think or what."

"Wait, you live with him. You should know what he's up to. Has he been hanging out with other girls this summer?"

"Just Y/N, but you know them. Two peas in a pod."

Her heart dropped. God, she really didn't want people even thinking that she and- She stormed through the foyer and dodged past Conrad, who was talking to some other locals from Cousins. His voice definitely called her name, but she ignored him and grabbed a bottle of vodka.

There had to be an empty room with access to the roof somewhere.

It felt like it had been hours since she had found this spot, sitting securely on a spot on the roof that had a perfect view of the moon.

She used to look at the moon with her dad. She used to look at the moon with-

"Y/N/N?" She almost scoffed, not even bothering to look towards the window. "What are you doing up here? We've been looking-"

"No, you haven't."

"What do you mean no we haven't?"

"I mean, no, you haven't. I've been up here for like two hours, Conrad."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't- I'm sorry. I just need to be alone, okay?" She lay down, staring at the stars once more. "Just leave me alone."

Silence followed, and she assumed that he had left, but when she heard the window close and his steps grew closer, she fought the smile that was forming on her face. He lay next to her. "We haven't done this in a while."

"Connie..."

"Y/N..."

"You don't need to lay next to me just to make me feel better."

"Can't I just lay next to my best friend?"

Her stomach twisted, and she told herself it was from the copious amounts of alcohol that she had ingested. "How's Nicole?"

His voice sounded careful. "She's fine."

"Just fine?" She turned her head, looking at his side profile. He was- "She was talking about you."

"Yeah?"

She hummed, still staring at him. "She likes you a lot."

"That's good."

"Yeah." She turned back to the stars. "You ever think we're too close?"

He laughed, like actually laughed. "No, I don't. Do you?"

"Sometimes."

His smile fell, and it was his turn to look at her. "Why's that?"

"I don't think your girlfriends appreciate it very much. Me being your best friend."

"Nicole's not my girlfriend, and even if she were, she'd have to get used to you." He nudged her and scooted closer. "You're my best friend."

"I know." She closed her eyes, her heart shattering into a million pieces. "I know I'm your best friend, Connie. You're mine too."

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lvoryingrid · 11 months ago

Text

Always You

Levi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: Levi and his squad are on a desperate mission to find (Y/n) and her missing team. After discovering signs of a recent battle—broken equipment and bloodstains—they press on, hoping against hope that they’ll find survivors.

The dense forest was a stark contrast to the chaos that lay beyond its shadowed depths. It was eerily silent, save for the occasional distant groan of Titans and the relentless, rhythmic hiss of ODM gear slicing through the air. Levi, ever the embodiment of stoicism, cut through the foliage with his squad trailing in precise formation. His usual expression of impassive determination was marred by a rare hint of turbulence as memories of battles long past churned in his mind.

Farlan's face emerged from the depths of his memory, vivid and clear. Levi remembered his friend’s unwavering courage, that rare blend of humor and resolve that had held the squad together in those desperate times. Farlan's voice echoed in Levi’s mind, a constant reassurance during their darkest moments. He could almost hear Farlan’s laugh, that rough, unrestrained sound that had always managed to cut through the thick veil of despair.

Isabel followed closely behind in his recollections. She was a beacon of warmth in the cold, her eyes always gleaming with a mix of kindness and fierce determination. Levi recalled her spirit, her laughter mingling with Farlan's in the cramped quarters of their makeshift base. She had a way of making even the bleakest situations seem more bearable, her presence a silent promise that they would make it through.

(Y/n)’s face also appeared in his mind, her features as clear and vivid as if she were standing beside him in the forest. Unlike Farlan and Isabel, (Y/n) was alive, a constant presence in his life since those grim days in the underground city. The memory of their first meeting came rushing back, bringing with it a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and warmth.

“Hey! You little thief, come back here!” a man shouts. His voice a mixture of frustration and anger.

A young girl, her facial expression etched with a mix of fear and determination, cut through the crowd as she sprinted away from the man, clutching a piece of bread tightly in her small, trembling hands.

Behind her, the food stand owner’s rage fueled his pursuit. His face, contorted with fury and a sense of injustice, grew more menacing with each stride. He was a large man, his bulk and strength a stark contrast to her small frame, and his anger only seemed to make him faster, more relentless.

As she darted around corners, her heart pounding in her chest, she could hear his heavy breaths and the angry shouts that echoed through the narrow streets. Her legs screamed in protest, but she couldn’t afford to stop, not with the relentless anger of the food stand owner closing in.

She took a sharp turn into a smaller alley, her hope fleeting as she realized the walls were closing in. She pressed her back against the grimy brick, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to steady herself. The bread, clutched tightly to her chest, was now smeared with grime, but she wouldn’t let it go. Not now. Not ever.

The sound of heavy footsteps grew closer, each step echoing her mounting fear. The food stand owner’s voice, filled with a venomous mixture of rage and righteousness, cut through the darkness. “You think you can just take what isn’t yours? You’re nothing but a thief!”

The girl’s eyes darted around the dead-end alley, her hope extinguishing with every passing second. The food stand owner’s figure loomed closer, his anger palpable, when a sudden noise cut through the night. The man’s heavy footsteps faltered as a new figure appeared at the entrance of the alley.

Levi, his dark eyes cold and unwavering, stepped into view. His expression was a stark contrast to the food stand owner’s rage—calm, controlled, and filled with an underlying intensity. He moved with lethal precision, his presence commanding immediate attention.

The food stand owner turned, his eyes widening in recognition and surprise. “You!” he began, but his words were cut short as Levi advanced with swift, practiced motions.

Without a word, Levi’s fist connected with the man’s jaw, the force of the blow sending him staggering back. The food stand owner roared in pain, but Levi was relentless. He moved like a blur, his strikes precise and unforgiving, each hit fueled by a steely resolve that left no room for mercy.

The alley was filled with the harsh sounds of the fight—cracking blows, grunts of pain, and the thud of bodies hitting the ground. Levi’s attacks were calculated, each movement a testament to his exceptional skill. It wasn’t long before the food stand owner, battered and defeated, lay crumpled at the base of the wall, his anger extinguished by Levi’s unyielding assault.

Levi turned his gaze to the girl, his eyes softening as he took in her disheveled, terrified form. The fierce protector that had emerged from his stoic exterior was now replaced by a flicker of concern. He approached her slowly, his movements careful, as if afraid to startle her further.

“It’s okay,” Levi said, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe now.”

The girl looked up at him, her wide eyes filled with a mix of awe and relief. The bread, still clutched to her chest, seemed almost insignificant compared to the unexpected salvation that Levi represented. Her tears, once brimming with fear, began to fall freely as the weight of her ordeal lifted.

Levi extended a hand, offering her a sense of security. “Come on,” he said gently. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Captain Levi, we’ve reached the western perimeter of the forest,” Petra’s voice came through clearly, though there was an edge of concern in her tone. “What are your instructions?” He took a deep breath, his mind snapping into the present as he scanned the surroundings.

“Hold your position at the perimeter,” Levi instructed, his voice steady and authoritative. “We’ll need to assess the situation before moving forward. The Titans are more active in this area, and I don’t want to risk an ambush. Prepare for any potential engagement, but keep your movements minimal and calculated.”

Levi and Farlan sat at a makeshift table in their small cramped quarters, the flickering light of a single lamp casting long shadows on the walls. The air was thick as it always was down here. They had just finished discussing their next mission when (Y/n) burst through the door, her face flushed with a mix of determination and frustration.

“Levi!” she called out, her voice cutting through the haze of the room. “I want to go on the next mission with you and Farlan.”

Levi looked at her, his expression a mixture of surprise and skepticism. “No,” he replied bluntly. “The missions are dangerous. It’s not something you can just jump into.”

(Y/n) wasn’t deterred. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing with determination. “I can handle it. I’ve been training hard. You don’t think I’m ready, but I can prove myself.”

Farlan, who had been quietly observing, exchanged a glance with Levi before speaking. “Levi, she’s right. We’ve seen her skills firsthand. She’s not a novice.”

Levi’s gaze met Farlan’s, a silent but firm signal for him to leave. Farlan, understanding the message, stood up from the table. “See you both later.”

As Farlan left the room, the door closing behind him with a muted thud, the atmosphere between Levi and (Y/n) grew thick with tension. The small quarters seemed even smaller now, as if the walls themselves were closing in under the weight of their confrontation.

Levi's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “You’re too inexperienced for this kind of mission. It’s not just about fighting; it’s about surviving. And right now, you’re not ready for that.”

(Y/n) stood her ground, her fists clenched at her sides. “I’m tired of being treated like I’m helpless. I’ve trained hard, and I’ve proven myself. I’m ready to take on real challenges. I want to be useful, not just sit here and clean the house.”

Levi’s gaze softened for a brief moment before hardening again. “This is about your safety. The missions we undertake are dangerous, and losing someone because they were unprepared is something I won’t accept.”

(Y/n)’s face flushed with a mix of frustration and hurt. “I don’t need you to protect me like I’m a child. I’m capable of handling myself. If you keep holding me back, I’ll never get the chance to prove it. I want to be a part of this.”

Levi sighed, his frustration evident. “It’s not about holding you back. It’s about making sure you don’t get yourself killed. You think you’re ready, but you don’t know what it’s like out there. The fear, the chaos—things you can’t fully prepare for until you’ve faced them. I don’t want you to learn that the hard way.”

(Y/n) shook her head, her eyes blazing with determination. “I know what I’m getting into. I’ve seen enough to understand what’s at stake. If you keep treating me like I’m incapable, you’re only holding me back. I need to face these challenges to grow, to truly be a part of the team.”

Levi’s shoulders tensed as he struggled to maintain his composure. “And what if you get hurt? What if something happens that you can’t handle? I’ve seen too many good people fall because they weren’t prepared. I won’t let that happen to you.”

(Y/n) stormed out of the cramped quarters, her steps echoing angrily in the small room. The door slammed shut behind her with a decisive bang, leaving Levi alone in the dimly lit room. Levi watched her go, his face an impassive mask hiding the turmoil within. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as he thought to himself, 'She’ll get over it.'

Levi’s thoughts snapped back to the present as Petra’s voice came through the radio, breaking the silence. “Captain Levi, we’re at the western perimeter. We’ve started a preliminary sweep of the area. No Titans in sight so far.”

Levi acknowledged her report with a nod. “Good. Keep your eyes peeled and stay alert. The Titans have been more active lately, so don’t let your guard down. Make sure to cover all the potential entry points. We don’t want any surprises.”

Levi recalled the day when Erwin Smith and his men had come for them in the underground city. The cramped, filthy corridors of the underground had seemed almost suffocating in their desperation. He could still see it vividly—the moment that had ignited a deep, consuming anger within him.

It had been a chaotic scene. Erwin, with his calm demeanor and authoritative presence, had confronted them, and his ultimatum had been clear: join the Scouts or face imprisonment. Levi’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and anger, but one image had burned itself into his consciousness, overriding everything else.

In the midst of the confrontation, Levi had seen (Y/n) being roughly held by one of Erwin’s men. Her terrified expression, wide eyes pleading for any form of reassurance, had been enough to pierce through Levi’s hardened exterior. He remembered how her body had trembled, her almost sickly thin frame seemingly dwarfed by the imposing figure of the soldier who had gripped her arm tightly. That moment had crystallized his anger and helplessness.

As Erwin laid out the terms, Levi had felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He knew that joining the Scouts was the best way to ensure their survival, but the sight of (Y/n) in distress had made his decision all the more urgent. Her fear had become a catalyst, driving him to agree to Erwin’s terms without a second thought.

“Captain Levi, we’ve detected some unusual activity. The perimeter seems to be secure, but we’re picking up signs of movement further into the forest. Do you want us to investigate?”

Levi’s thoughts remained shadowed by the past, but he had a duty to perform. He squared his shoulders and responded, his voice carrying the weight of his resolve. “Proceed with caution. Investigate the movement but stay vigilant. We can’t afford any slip-ups. Report back with your findings as soon as possible.”

It was a day that seemed almost idyllic compared to the harsh reality they had grown accustomed to. The four of them ventured out on their first expedition beyond the walls. The sun had shone brightly that day, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. The sky, a vast expanse of unblemished blue, was a sharp contrast to the oppressive gloom of the underground that they were used to.

Levi remembered the moment vividly, the moment the gate opened revealing a world that was both beautiful and terrifying. He recalled how the gentle wind had ruffled (Y/n)’s (h/c) hair, sending it dancing around her face. Her (e/c) eyes, wide with wonder and a hint of apprehension, had seemed to drink in the sight of the open sky as if it were a rare and precious gift. She had smiled, a genuine expression of joy and freedom that Levi had never seen before.

The memory stood in stark contrast to the scene that followed shortly after. The tranquility of the day was shattered when Erwin Smith and his team arrived, their presence imposing and unwelcome. Levi felt a knot of dread tighten in his chest as they commanded (Y/n) to come with them. He remembered the way she nodded and gently waved goodbye to her friends, watching her until she disappeared. The calm authority in Erwin’s voice only deepened Levi’s sense of foreboding.

The next time their eyes had met, disaster had already struck. The memory was burned into his mind—a sight so devastating that it was almost unbearable. The rain and the dark fog may have made it hard to see, but Isabel and Farlan lay lifeless, their bodies marked by the brutal reality of their world.

It all happened so fast, the dark rain mingling with the tears on his face. Levi couldn't recall how the titan beside him was killed; all he could remember was the hollow ache in his chest, the searing pain of losing the people he had fought so hard to protect. The weight of his choices pressed down on him. He felt guilty and furious, willing to kill Erwin, who he held responsible for their deaths.

(Y/n) had been there, just a few steps away along with Erwins team. Her face was pale and stricken with shock, the sight of her friends’ deaths causing her to heave with a grief so deep it seemed to consume her. In that moment, Levi had wanted nothing more than to close her eyes, to shield her from the horror of what they had lost. He had wanted to lash out at Erwin, to find someone to blame for the senseless violence that had claimed his friends.

The rain had stopped, and the sun broke through the clouds, its warm light spilling across the battlefield as if to mock him. After all these years in the underground, the sight of the sun should have been a moment of triumph, a glimpse of freedom he had never known. But now, it only felt cruel, a stark reminder of everything he had lost.

Levi stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the lifeless remains of Isabel and Furlan, the weight of his failure crushing him. The sun's warmth did nothing to thaw the cold emptiness inside him. He was free, but at what cost?

(Y/n)’s footsteps echoed softly as she approached the fallen. Her silent tears mirrored the sorrow in his heart, each drop falling like a hammer on his soul. She knelt beside them, her trembling hands reaching out, but there was nothing she could do—nothing either of them could do to bring them back.

The sight of her grief, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, made him feel more helpless than ever before. All the strength he had, all the skill, had amounted to nothing. He wanted to speak, to offer some comfort, but the words choked in his throat, trapped by the overwhelming sense of loss.

“So, you’re the only survivor.” Erwin’s gruff voice pierced through the rain, heavy with judgment. “How pathetic.”

The words stung, igniting a fire within Levi. He didn’t waste a second—fueled by rage and grief, he lunged at Erwin, his blade aimed to kill. But Erwin’s reflexes were lightning-fast, his hand catching the blade just in time. Blood dripped from his hand, mingling with the rain, but Erwin’s grip didn’t falter.

Levi’s eyes burned with fury, the raw pain of his loss driving him to push harder, but Erwin’s gaze remained steady, unwavering, as if daring Levi to finish what he started. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, the air thick with unspoken words.

"I'm going to... kill you!" Levi gasped, his breaths ragged and fast. "That's why I'm here!" he screamed, his voice cracking with the agony that dripped from every word. His heart pounded in his chest, driven by a fury he could barely contain.

Erwin's gaze remained steady, unflinching, as he dropped the documents they had been after onto the ground, revealing them as fake. Levi's eyes widened in fury, his voice trembling with rage as he shouted, "You knew everything from the start!"

(Y/n)'s soft cries filled the air, her sobs a haunting backdrop to the scene. Erwin glanced her way, his expression unreadable as Levi continued to seethe.

"You knew we were after you, and yet you—" Levi's voice broke as he lunged at the tall man, desperate to exact his revenge. But before he could reach him, Mike intervened, grabbing hold of Levi and stopping him in his tracks.

Levi struggled for a moment before suddenly going still. He knelt down beside (Y/n), his anger momentarily overshadowed by concern as he looked at her. The tears that had been streaming down her face had stopped, and something else now shone in her (e/c) eyes—a look that struck him to the core.

He could see the pain in her gaze, the grief and despair, but there was something more—something resolute, as if she had made a decision. The sight of it made Levi’s chest tighten, his rage flickering as he grappled with the depth of their shared loss.

As Levi looked at the faces of his fallen friends, their final words echoed in his mind, haunting him with the weight of their loss. Isabel's laughter, Furlan's determination—they all seemed so distant now, like memories from another life. The pain was suffocating, a grief so raw it threatened to consume him entirely.

But suddenly, Erwin's voice cut through the memories like a sharp blade. "Don't. You'll regret it."

Levi looked up, shocked by the calm authority in Erwin's words. The blond man’s gaze was unwavering, piercing through the storm of emotions swirling within Levi.

"If you begin to regret," Erwin continued, his voice steady and firm, "you’ll dull your future decisions and let others make choices for you." He paused, his eyes flicking towards (Y/n), who stood nearby, her face still pale with grief.

"All that’s left for you then is to die."

"Nobody can foretell the outcome. Each decision you make only gains meaning through the choices that follow," Erwin spoke, his gaze piercing and resolute. There was a weight in his words, an unspoken acknowledgment of the unforgiving world they lived in. He turned to his team, his voice firm as he commanded, "We're continuing the mission. I expect you both to come with me."

He mounted his horse with practiced ease, the determination in his every movement undeniable. (Y/n) hesitated for just a moment, glancing back at Levi. Her once innocent eyes, now hardened by the cruel reality they had endured, lingered on him. A silent understanding passed between them—a shared burden, a mutual grief. Then, with a final nod, she climbed onto her horse, steeling herself for what lay ahead.

As she rode off with Erwin, Levi watched her go, the weight of their losses pressing down on him. In her eyes, he saw the same resolve that now fueled him—a commitment to continue the fight, no matter the cost.

Years had passed since the loss of their friends, and now Levi’s squad was back in the forest, meticulously scouring the area for any sign of their missing comrades. The dense foliage and shadowed depths, once a backdrop to their grief and loss, had become a place of wary searching and lingering hope.

Levi led the search with his usual precision, his eyes scanning the underbrush for any sign of remains or clues. The silence of the forest was occasionally broken by the distant groans of Titans and the sound of ODM gear slicing through the air. Despite the apparent calm, a palpable unease lingered among his squad. The doubt and despair were visible in their expressions; they feared the worst—that the missing squad had been devoured by Titans, their remains long since consumed and erased from existence.

Yet Levi’s thoughts were elsewhere. He refused to believe that Y/n was gone. The girl he had once protected in the alleyway, now a seasoned soldier and leader of her own squad, had become stronger than he had ever imagined. Her evolution from a frightened child to a formidable woman was nothing short of extraordinary. She had surpassed his expectations, growing into someone who no longer needed his protection, someone who had proven herself countless times in the face of unimaginable horrors.

The squad moved with a mix of hope and resignation, each member trying to come to terms with the possibility that their search might be in vain. Levi’s own heart was heavy with the weight of his memories and the stark reality of their situation. He knew Y/n’s resilience, her drive to survive, and he refused to let that hope die.

Levi paused, his gaze shifting to a clearing where the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the ground. The scene was reminiscent of a moment he had cherished from the past—a rare, peaceful respite amidst the chaos of their world. It wasn’t foreign to him to find solace in such a spot, especially after grueling training sessions with (Y/n).

"Levi?”

He turned to see Y/n standing at the edge of the clearing, her presence like a beacon amidst the shadows.

“You’re here,” Levi said, his voice a mix of relief and disbelief. “I didn’t think...”

Y/n stepped closer to him, her expression softening as she took in the sight of the clearing. “I didn’t think I’d ever see this place again,” she said quietly. “Not like this.”

Levi’s gaze was steady, though his eyes betrayed a hint of the storm of emotions within. “You’ve changed a lot since then,” he said, his voice carrying a rare note of admiration. “You’ve become stronger than I ever imagined.”

Y/n smiled, a touch of sadness mingling with the warmth in her eyes. "I'm glad"

“I remember the first time we were here together,” Levi said, his voice carrying a mixture of nostalgia and sadness. “The sun was setting just like this.”

Y/n’s smile grew as she absorbed the memory, her eyes reflecting the golden light. “Yeah, I remember. It felt like the world was giving us a break from all the darkness.”

Levi’s eyes remained fixed on the clearing, the light filtering through the trees serving as a gentle reminder of their past. “That day, after we lost Farlan and Isabel, I was grateful Erwin took you with him. I wasn’t sure how to face that loss if it weren't for you, you made me believe in the possibility of moving forward.”

Y/n looked at Levi with a hint of amusement in her eyes. His unusually reflective demeanor caught her off guard. “You’re being quite talkative today, Captain,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing note. “What’s the occasion?”

Levi’s lips twitched into a faint, rueful smile one that he never shares with anyone else, other than her. He glanced away momentarily, his gaze wandering over the familiar landscape, as though trying to gather the right words. “I suppose I’m just feeling… reflective,” he admitted, his voice softer than usual. “Seeing this place again, it brings back so many memories.”

Levi's gaze remained fixed on Y/n’s (e/c) eyes, his own filled with a depth of emotion that he rarely allowed to surface. The weight of his feelings was palpable, and for a moment, the noise of the world outside the clearing seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the connection between them, forged through shared struggles and unwavering trust.

Y/n, sensing the intensity of his gaze, held his stare. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from fear, but from a profound sense of connection and understanding. The golden light of the setting sun bathed them in a soft glow, making the moment feel almost ethereal.

“Levi,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with anticipation.

Levi’s breath hitched. He could feel the pull of his emotions, the long-buried feelings that he had tried so hard to keep in check. The fear of losing her, of seeing her hurt, was a constant shadow that loomed over every decision he made. He knew that if he allowed himself to fully embrace his feelings, he would be laying bare a part of himself that he had guarded closely for so long.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice a low murmur, **“I—”

Before he could finish, he found himself moving closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek. The touch was tender, and it seemed to communicate everything that words could not. He wanted to be close to her, to bridge the distance that had always been there despite their shared history.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed at the touch, a sigh escaping her lips. She leaned into his hand, feeling the warmth and the weight of his emotions. When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a mixture of longing and understanding.

“Levi,” she said softly, “it’s okay. You don’t have to hold back. We’ve faced so much together. We know the risks, and we know the cost. But that doesn’t mean we can’t cherish what we have, right now.”

Levi’s heart ached with the weight of his indecision. He wanted to kiss her, to let her know just how much she meant to him, but the fear of what might happen if he lost her was almost too much to bear. He could imagine the heartbreak if something were to happen to her, and he didn’t want her to think that his affection was a fleeting thing.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said finally, his voice a strained whisper. “I don’t want you to think that my feelings are just a reaction to the situation. I…”

Y/n reached up, placing her hand over his. “Levi, no matter what happens, we can’t live our lives in fear. We’ve always faced things head-on. And we’ve always had each other. Isn’t that worth something?”

Her words seemed to cut through the fog of his hesitation. Levi’s resolve wavered as he looked into her eyes, seeing the sincerity and depth of her feelings reflected back at him. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was gentle and full of unspoken emotion.

The kiss was a balm to the wounds they both carried, a moment of peace amidst the turmoil. When they finally pulled away, their foreheads rested together, and Levi’s eyes were soft with a mixture of relief and tenderness.

“Captain Levi,” one of his squad members called out, breaking his reverie. “We’ve found something.” There was a hint of uncertainty in their voice, but also a glimmer of hope.

Levi approached the area where the squad member stood. His eyes fell upon a piece of discarded equipment—a well-worn, familiar object that unmistakably belonged to Y/n. It was a small, but significant sign that they had once been there, that they had fought and survived in this very place.

The discovery reignited a spark of hope within him. Levi felt a surge of determination, a renewed belief that Y/n, and her squad, were still alive. He knew she was capable of enduring, of fighting through the worst.

As they reached the clearing, the evidence of a recent skirmish became undeniable. Broken blades, shattered equipment, and blood—too much blood—painted a grim picture. But there were no bodies, no sign of the squad they were searching for.

The squad members exchanged uneasy glances, their doubts growing with each passing moment. The scene before them was one they had witnessed countless times before, yet it never became easier. The reality of their world was one where comrades often disappeared without a trace, leaving only questions and the heavy burden of guilt.

Levi knelt beside a broken blade, his fingers brushing over the jagged edge. The metal was still cold, a stark reminder of the fragility of life in the face of the Titans. His mind raced, piecing together the clues left behind. The direction of the cuts, the splatter of blood—it all told a story, one he was determined to understand.

"Captain," Petra spoke again, her voice tinged with concern. "Do you think... they could have been taken by the Titans? There’s no sign of them here."

Levi didn’t respond immediately. His eyes scanned the clearing, looking for something—anything—that could give him a lead. The squad’s fear was palpable, but he couldn’t afford to let it cloud his judgment. He couldn’t let them lose hope, not when he knew she was out there, somewhere.

"They fought," Levi finally said, his voice low but steady. "They put up a fight, and there are no corpses."

The squad exchanged uncertain glances, but Levi’s confidence was unwavering. He could feel it in his bones—the connection that had always existed between him and (Y/n) was still there, a thin thread that tied them together across the years and the miles. She was alive, and he would find her.

"We keep moving," Levi ordered, rising to his feet. "Stay alert and watch for any signs. We’re not leaving this forest until we find them."

The squad members nodded, their resolve strengthened by his determination. They knew better than to question their captain’s instincts, especially when it came to matters as personal as this.

Levi led them deeper into the forest, his senses on high alert. Every sound, every movement caught his attention, his mind working tirelessly to unravel the mystery of what had happened to (Y/n) and her squad. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the forest floor, but Levi pressed on, undeterred by the gathering darkness.

"Captain!" Gunther's voice called out from ahead, breaking through his thoughts. Levi’s attention snapped back to the present as he moved toward the sound.

Levi followed Gunther’s gaze, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted a figure perched high in the branches of a large tree. The person was lying motionless, partially obscured by the dense foliage. Levi's heart raced. It could be anyone—friend or foe, alive or dead—but the sight was enough to send a jolt of hope through him.

"Petra, Auruo, check for any signs of life and secure the area," Levi instructed, his voice sharp and commanding. "Gunther, keep an eye on the surroundings. We don’t want any surprises."

The squad members moved quickly, Petra and Auruo scaling the tree with practiced efficiency while Levi and Gunther kept watch. As Petra reached the branch where the figure lay, she carefully examined them, her expression focused and concerned.

"It's (Y/n)," Petra called down, her voice filled with both relief and concern. "She's alive, but she's in bad shape."

Levi's heart skipped a beat. The news was both a blessing and a challenge. He glanced at Gunther, who nodded, signaling that the perimeter was secure for now. Levi climbed the tree with swift, agile movements, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry.

Reaching the branch, Levi knelt beside (Y/n). Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, but there was a faint, reassuring warmth to her skin. He gently checked her pulse, relieved to find it steady, though weak.

"(Y/n)," Levi said softly, his voice barely a whisper as he touched her shoulder. "Can you hear me?"

For a moment, there was no response. Levi’s heart tightened with concern. He could see the exhaustion etched into her features, the toll that time and hardship had taken on her. Then, slowly, her eyes fluttered open. They were cloudy and disoriented, but there was a glimmer of recognition as they met his gaze.

(Y/n)’s eyes struggled to focus as she looked up at Levi. Her face was a mixture of relief and confusion, her strength clearly ebbing away. She tried to prop herself up, her movements weak and unsteady.

“Levi,” she croaked, her voice hoarse. “My team… where are they? Did you find them?”

Levi’s expression hardened slightly, the weight of the news he had to deliver evident in his eyes. He took a deep breath, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. “We haven’t found anyone else yet. We’re still searching, but… there’s been no sign of the rest of your squad so far.”

The hope in (Y/n)’s eyes dimmed, replaced by a shadow of despair. She slumped back against the ground, her gaze turning towards the forest canopy, as if searching for an answer in the shifting leaves. “They’re… they’re gone, aren’t they?”

Levi could see the pain etched into her face, the struggle to come to terms with the potential loss of her comrades. He knelt beside her, his hand gently resting on her shoulder, offering what comfort he could. “We’re not giving up. We’ll keep looking, and we’ll bring them back if we can.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back tears. The silence of the forest seemed to press in on her, heavy with the weight of unanswered questions and unspoken fears. Levi’s presence was a small solace, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this moment of grief.

Levi’s gaze remained steady as he looked down at (Y/n). He could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the pain that she tried to mask with her strength. He knew that time was of the essence. “Petra, Auruo,” he called out, his voice carrying the edge of urgency. “We need to split up and search the surrounding area for any signs of the rest of her squad. Be thorough, and stay sharp.”

Petra and Auruo nodded, immediately setting off in different directions, their ODM gear making them disappear into the trees with swift precision. Levi turned back to (Y/n), his expression softening as he carefully lifted her from the branch.

“Hold on,” Levi said gently, though his voice was firm. He cradled her in his arms, her weight light but her presence heavy with the burden of worry. “We’re heading back to HQ. We need to get you checked out.”

(Y/n) didn’t protest. She leaned into his embrace, her body trembling slightly from both fatigue and emotional strain. Levi activated his ODM gear, and they soared into the air, cutting through the dense forest canopy with practiced ease. The wind rushed past them, the familiar sensation of flight contrasting sharply with the gravity of their situation.

As they flew, Levi kept his focus on their path, but his thoughts were consumed by (Y/n). He had been searching for her for so long, and now that he had found her, the relief was tinged with worry. He glanced down at her occasionally, making sure she was secure in his arms.

“I thought... I thought I’d lost you for good.” Levi said, his voice softer than usual, a slight tremble in his voice. "Thought you left me all alone."

(Y/n) managed a weak smile, her eyes meeting his. The journey through the trees seemed endless, but Levi’s presence was a source of comfort. She reached up, her hand trembling slightly as it touched his cheek. The contact was gentle, almost reverent, as if she were trying to reassure herself that he was really there.

“I... I thought I’d never see you again,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. Tears, long held back, finally escaped her eyes and traced down her cheeks. They fell softly onto Levi’s face, the touch like a caress against his skin.

His arms tightened around her, cradling her more securely against him. “I’m here. I won’t let go. I’ll always come find you, no matter what.”

(Y/n) closed her eyes for a moment, letting the gentle, reassuring presence of Levi seep into her. The words were like a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing the raw edges of her fear. She could feel the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat, a grounding counterpoint to the turbulence that had marked her recent days.

Levi’s gaze softened as he looked down at her. He felt a deep, almost unbearable ache in his chest, a mixture of relief and profound affection. He leaned in, his lips brushing the top of her head with a tenderness that was rarely seen from him.

“I love you so much,” he murmured softly, the words barely more than a whisper but filled with sincerity and depth. The kiss was a fleeting but profound gesture, a declaration of feelings that he had held close for far too long. It was a promise, a reassurance that even in the darkest times, there was someone who would always be there, unyielding and steadfast.

(Y/n) felt the warmth of his kiss and the depth of his words, a solace in the midst of her turmoil. The tears that had escaped now mingled with a faint smile, a small, hopeful sign amid the storm of emotions. She pressed closer to him, her heart echoing the sentiment he had expressed.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice a trembling echo of the gratitude and affection she felt. “I didn’t think... I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to hear that again.”

Levi’s response was a quiet, resolute nod. His expression remained firm, but his eyes held a depth of emotion that he rarely showed. As they soared through the forest, the world around them seemed to blur into insignificance compared to the quiet strength of their connection.

They continued their flight, the wind a steady companion to their journey. Levi’s focus remained on navigating through the forest with the utmost care, but his thoughts were intertwined with the girl in his arms. He knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, but with (Y/n) by his side again, he felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

As Levi and (Y/n) neared the base, the faint lights of the outpost illuminated their path. The once-dense forest began to give way to open space, the familiar sight of the base offering a beacon of hope in the twilight. Levi’s heart pounded with a mix of urgency and relief as they approached.

The base’s medics, already alerted by the commotion, rushed forward to meet them. Their faces were set in professional concern as they took in the sight of (Y/n) in Levi’s arms. With practiced efficiency, they carefully helped him lower her to the ground.

“Captain Levi, we’ll take it from here,” one of the medics said, her voice brisk but compassionate. “Please step aside so we can attend to her injuries.”

Levi nodded, his hands lingering for a moment on (Y/n)’s shoulders. “Be careful with her. She’s been through a lot.”

(Y/n) looked up at Levi, her eyes tired but filled with a profound sense of gratitude. “Levi… Thank you. For everything.”

Levi’s eyes met hers, his expression a mix of determination and tenderness. “I promised I’d find you,” he said softly. “And I’ll keep that promise. I’ll find the others.”

With one last, lingering look, Levi stepped back, allowing the medics to take over. He watched as they moved swiftly, attending to (Y/n)’s wounds and making sure she was stable.

With a deep breath, Levi tore his gaze away and turned towards the door leading out of the base. The night air greeted him as he stepped outside, the coolness a sharp but invigorating contrast to the warmth inside. His mind was already racing, analyzing the reports and plans as he prepared himself for the search ahead.

Despite the uncertainty of what lay ahead, Levi felt a rare sense of safety and calm. The knowledge that (Y/n) was safe and being cared for provided a solid foundation for his own resolve. He was no longer fighting alone; he had something to protect, a reason to push through the night and face the dangers of the world

Masterlist

#levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot x reader #levi aot #captain levi #aot levi #levi attack on titan #levi heichou #snk levi #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #levi x y/n #one shot #angst #aot angst #levi angst

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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

Text

White Horse - Chapter 18: May 2024 - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

Warnings and Notes:

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The apartment smelled like raspberries the moment they opened the door.

Belle blinked. “Do you… smell cake?”

Max grinned. “I wasn’t the only one who remembered.”

“Max,” came a voice from the kitchen. “If you let her cry in an elevator last night and didn’t bring her back to a full-blown party, I will break your nose.”

Emilie.

She stepped into the room holding a knife in one hand and a bouquet in the other, a dishtowel slung over her shoulder like some kind of aggressively nurturing chaos fairy.

“Oh my god,” Belle whispered, stunned.

There were balloons—floating near the windows, tethered in groups of gold and pink and white. A stack of wrapped gifts sat near the sofa, all tagged with labels like “Open when you want to feel dangerous” and “This one is soft because you deserve softness.” A cake—raspberry, of course—sat on the dining table, frosted with piped lettering that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELLE.”

Max just closed the door behind them and kissed the top of Belle’s head as she stared, speechless.

Emilie crossed the room, shoved the flowers into Max’s hands, and pulled Belle into a full-body hug that somehow said I love you, I see you, and I will never let this happen again all at once.

“You’re early,” Belle whispered.

“I’m me,” Emilie said. “Of course I’m early. Of course I brought gifts. And of course I brought lunch, because I knew you two wouldn’t eat anything but adrenaline and each other today.”

Belle laughed—actually laughed—and Emilie pulled back just enough to study her face.

Then her eyes dropped.

“…What is that?” she asked, already grabbing Belle’s hand.

The ring glinted in the light. Emerald. Gold. Hers.

Emilie shrieked.

“You didn’t!”

Belle smiled. “He did.”

Max, very smug and still holding the flowers like a schoolboy in love, nodded. “She said yes.”

Emilie let out an actual squeal, tackled Belle in another hug, and then pointed the cake knife at Max.

“I’m planning the engagement party. You don’t get a vote.”

“Fair,” Max said, amused.

Belle just stood there, blinking back another round of tears. But they were different now.

Not the kind you cried because you were forgotten.

The kind you cried because someone—multiple someones—never stopped remembering.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Emilie squeezed her hand. “Always.”

***

The dishes were still in the sink. Balloons floated lazily near the ceiling. Emilie had slipped out with a wink and a leftover box of cake, promising to return with champagne and chaos “once you’ve finished your romantic post-engagement spiral.”

The apartment was quiet again.

Max and Belle were curled up on the couch, legs tangled, her head resting on his chest. One of the cats was asleep on the windowsill. The other had made a throne of the discarded wrapping paper pile.

Max's fingers moved gently through her hair. “So,” he said, voice soft. “What kind of wedding do you want?”

Belle blinked up at him. “You’re asking now?”

“I’m curious,” he said. “You’ve had a Pinterest board for this since 2013, don’t lie.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Her fingers curled into the edge of his sweatshirt.

“I used to want the whole thing,” she said. “The cathedral. The dress with a five-meter train. The champagne tower and a dance floor with my name in lights. I used to picture a wall of flowers and an aisle that took two minutes to walk down.”

Max watched her quietly.

“I think,” Belle said slowly, “I wanted it to feel like something big enough that they’d have to see me. Maybe if the day was big enough, loud enough… my family would finally pay attention.”

He didn’t say anything.

She didn’t need him to.

“But now?” she whispered. “After this week? After all of it?”

She sat up a little, just enough to look at him. Her voice stayed soft.

“I just want you.”

Max’s eyes softened in that way that made her feel like a secret being cherished. “You’ve always had me.”

Belle smiled—small, but certain. “Then I don’t need anyone else in the room. Not unless we want them there. I don’t need to prove anything. I don’t need anyone to clap for a day they didn’t help me dream about.”

Max nodded, his hand moving up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… Vegas?”

That made her laugh, for real this time.

“Maybe not Vegas. I don’t think I am the Elvis Chapel kind of girl,” she teased him.

“We can do whatever you want,” he said. “We can elope. We can do something quiet in the mountains. Or a beach. Hell, we can marry at the stable if you want. Just you, me, Fleur, and a priest who doesn’t ask too many questions.”

Belle’s heart tugged in the gentlest way. “I want it to feel like… peace. Like home. Not performance.”

Max leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then we’ll make it peaceful. We’ll make it ours.”

She exhaled into his shoulder, her ring glinting softly in the low light.

“I spent so many years trying to imagine what it would feel like to be loved loudly,” she said. “But being loved quietly by you is so much better.”

Max didn’t say anything. He just kissed her again, softly—like a promise.

And in that moment, Belle knew: She didn’t need chandeliers or glittering crowds or performances wrapped in lace.

She just needed Max.

“I just want you,” she said, eyes closing. “I want to marry you in the quiet. Somewhere small. Somewhere soft. No cameras. No pressure. Just… us.”

Max’s hand found hers, threading their fingers together gently.

“Good,” he said. “Because that’s all I ever wanted too.”

Belle opened her eyes and looked up at him, searching.

“You’re really okay with that?” she asked. “No big party, no headlines, no Red Bull-themed fireworks?”

Max grinned. “Fireworks are overrated. And I already won the only prize I ever actually wanted.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “That was cheesy.”

“I’m in love. It’s allowed.”

She leaned up and kissed him, slow and sure, and when she pulled back, her voice was lighter. “Let’s elope.”

Max blinked. “Wait—really?”

She nodded. “Let’s find somewhere just for us. Paris. Nice. I don’t care. As long as it’s you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. His whole expression softened, all edges gone.

“Then let’s do it,” Max said.

Belle smiled. Really smiled.

And for the first time in years, the future felt like hers.

***

After dinner—if leftover cake and Max feeding her strawberries from the fridge counted as dinner—Belle curled back into the couch in her softest pajamas and his hoodie, legs tucked under her. Her hair was slightly damp from the bath she hadn’t even realized she needed, and her engagement ring still caught the low light like it had something to say.

Max was in the kitchen, drying two wine glasses that had only been used for juice. She could hear him humming under his breath, some melody half-remembered from a road trip months ago.

Belle opened her phone.

Not for Instagram.

Not for texts.

Just… curious.

She searched: “How to get married in Monaco.” Then refined it: “Civil wedding Monaco how.” Then, after clicking through a very official-sounding government page with questionable font choices: “Monaco City Hall marriage appointment calendar.”

And there it was.

A calendar. A short list of dates and times.

And one of them—the very next morning—was wide open. Unclaimed. Slotted between some dignitary from the Chamber of Commerce and a local couple named Elise and Jean-Luc.

Belle stared at it.

Blinking.

The kind of opening that didn’t just feel like coincidence.

It was like the universe had sighed and said, Here. Have something just for you.

“Max?” she called, still staring at the screen. Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears—half laughter, half disbelief.

He appeared around the corner in an instant, towel slung over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

She turned the phone toward him.

“Monaco City Hall. Tomorrow. 11 AM.”

Max leaned in, reading it, then looked at her with a slow, blooming grin. “Are you serious?”

“I didn’t expect it to be available,” she said. “But… it is. And I live here. You have residency. The paperwork is fast. They’ll process it same-day if we show up with our IDs and two witnesses.”

Max’s grin widened. “We have IDs.”

“And Lando owns a suit,” she added, deadpan.

Max laughed, that warm, throaty sound she loved. “You want to do it tomorrow?”

Belle nodded once, heartbeat flickering behind her ribs like a match just caught flame.

“I think I really do.”

Max dropped the dish towel on the counter and walked straight over, pressing a hand to her cheek, thumb brushing along her jaw.

“Then it’s tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s get married in the place where it all started.”

Belle smiled—dizzy, delighted, a little breathless. “This is insane.”

“This is us.”

And it was.

No big parties. No cathedral. No guest list with people who only remembered her when it was convenient.

Just a city she loved, a man who never forgot her, and an appointment slot.

Perfect. Just like them.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase

Max: You already back in the UK?

GP: Nope. Flight got rescheduled. Still in Monaco. Why?

Max: Perfect.

GP: …Why is that perfect. Max.

Max: Because I need a witness.

GP: A what now.

Max: Witness. Like for legal purposes. You’re free tomorrow morning, right?

GP: Max.

Max: City Hall. 10:45. Wear something decent. I’m getting married.

GP: I’m sorry. You’re WHAT.

Max: Marrying Belle. Surprise.

GP: Surprise???

Max: We’re keeping it small. Quiet. Just us and a few people who won’t ask stupid questions or ruin it.

GP: Max.

Max: I’m sending you the location. And yes, I already have the paperwork.

GP: Of course you do.

Max: You in?

GP: Like I’d miss the moment you marry the best decision you’ve ever made.

Max: See you at 10:45.

GP: I’m bringing tissues. Don’t judge me.

Max: Never.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Max and I are getting married tomorrow. City hall. Just something small. Just for us. Will you come?

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???? TOMORROW??? CITY HALL??? SMALL???

Isabelle: Yes. No fuss. Just us. That’s all I want.

Emilie: Oh my GOD. You are not getting married like you’re renewing a driver’s license. You need flowers. A cake. A moment, Belle.

Isabelle: I don’t need any of that. I just want him. That’s it.

Emilie: Yes, yes, eternal love, devotion, blah blah blah. BUT. You are still getting married. You will wear a dress. You will hold a bouquet. You will eat something that tastes like joy and sugar and victory.

Belle: I’m not even sure what I’m wearing yet 😅 We haven’t thought that far ahead.

Emilie: THAT IS WHY YOU HAVE ME. Do you still have the white dress we got a few weeks ago? The one that made you look like a romantic novel with legs?

Isabelle: ...Yes.

Emilie: Good. Wear that. It’s perfect. Simple. Elegant. You. I’ll take care of the rest.

Isabelle: Em—no pressure, really. Please. I don’t want a production.

Emilie: This won’t be a production. It’ll be a love letter. With flowers. And maybe a three-layer cake.

Isabelle: Emilie 😭 You really don’t have to—

Emilie: Belle. You’ve planned everyone else’s birthdays, surprises, parties, and holidays since you were like what, twelve?! Let someone do it for you this once. Let me.

Isabelle: ...Okay. But just a little. No spark machines. No confetti cannons.

Emilie: Deal. But I am bringing champagne. And I will cry.

Isabelle: I wouldn’t want it any other way. 💛

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: You have a camera, right?

Lando: …yes?? What kind of question is that?

Max: Like, a real one. Not your phone.

Lando: Yes, Max, I own a camera. Why??

Max: I need you to document something.

Lando: What kind of something?

Max: Just be at Monaco City Hall tomorrow. 10:30. Bring your camera. Wear a suit. Preferably not orange.

Lando: MAX.

Max: Yes?

Lando: ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW???

Max: Yes.

Lando: YOU’RE JUST DROPPING THAT ON ME AT MIDNIGHT???

Max: It’s 11:43.

Lando: Oh, my mistake. PLENTY OF TIME TO PROCESS THE FACT YOU’RE SECRETLY GETTING MARRIED.

Max: Not secretly. Just quietly.

Lando: Max.

Max: What.

Lando: I’M HONORED BUT ALSO PANICKING. Do you want, like, pictures or VIBES?? Do I need a tripod?? Am I the witness?? Do I bring champagne?? WHAT’S MY ROLE HERE.

Max: Your role is “friend with a camera who knows how to shut up.”

Lando: I can be that.

Wait—can I still cry a little?

Max: Only if it’s behind the camera.

Lando: Deal. Lando:I don’t even know what shoes to wear for a Verstappen emergency elopement

Max: Don’t overthink it. You’re just the photographer.

Lando: You’re getting married in Monaco city hall and I’m the photographer?? What the hell kind of fairy tale speedrun is this?

Max: The efficient kind.

Lando: Who else is gonna come?

Max: Just us. People we trust.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey. Don’t freak out.

Victoria: That is exactly how you make someone freak out.

Max: Belle and I are getting married tomorrow. Monaco City Hall. It’s just us. Very small. Wanted you to know.

Victoria: MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN

Max: Uh-oh

Victoria: YOU ARE NOT GETTING MARRIED WITHOUT ME THERE I WILL WADDLE DOWN THE AISLE MYSELF SEND. YOUR. BLOODY. JET.

Max: Vic. You are literally weeks off of from giving birth.

Victoria: And I will do it IN THE AISLE of City Hall if I must. Tell Belle I will not miss her wedding. I love her more than most of our blood relatives.

Max: I mean. Same.

Victoria: SEND THE JET. I will sit like a queen with my feet up and my compression socks on.

Max: You sure Tom won’t tie you to the couch?

Victoria: He’s already packing snacks. You think he wants to deal with me if I don’t go?

Max: …That’s fair.

Victoria: Also I already picked out your wedding gift. I knew you two would elope. I felt it.

Max: You're terrifying.

Victoria: I'm hormonal. There's a difference. See you tomorrow. PS: tell Belle I cried. But like, emotionally. Not hormonally. Even though it was a little bit both.

Max: You’re completely insane.

Victoria: You’re the one marrying a Leclerc.

Max: Touché.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Sophie: So. I hear you’re eloping.

Max: …Hi, Mama.

Sophie: Don’t “hi mama” me. Are you really getting married tomorrow?

Max: Yes. City Hall. Small. Just us. And apparently my 34 weeks pregnant sister, because Victoria is very dramatic and refuses to be excluded.

Sophie: So am I. You are not getting married without me there.

Max: You’re not mad?

Sophie: Why would I be mad? You’re marrying the woman you love. If you’d done it with cameras and fireworks, I might’ve been suspicious.

Max: It just felt like the right time. After everything. She needed to feel chosen. Not tolerated. Not remembered late.

Sophie: She is chosen. By you. By all of us who actually pay attention.

Max: She still thinks she’s too much. Or not enough. Depending on the day.

Sophie: Then tomorrow, you remind her that she’s both. Too much for the wrong people. And more than enough for the right one.

Max: I’ll remind her every day.

Sophie: I know you will. Now go to sleep. You’re getting married in a few hours and I expect you to look well-rested in photos.

Max: Love you, Mama.

Sophie: I love you too, Maxie. Now go love your girl.

***

Group Chat: WHAT IS HAPPENING

(Members: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo)

Lando: GUYS

Lando: EMERGENCY

Lando: MAX IS GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW

Oscar: I… sorry, what?

Daniel: Did you hit your head again? Like, genuinely. Because this feels concussion-coded.

Lando: I’m serious!!! City Hall. 10:30. Monaco. To Belle. IT’S HAPPENING

Oscar: Wait wait wait. Like married married??

Lando: YES LIKE “I DO” MARRIED

Daniel: Holy shit. I did not have “Max Verstappen casually elopes with Charles Leclerc’s sister” on my 2024 bingo card but here we are.

Oscar: Did they even tell anyone??

Lando: They told ME. And then Max was like “you have a camera, right? wear a suit” like this is just a casual errand.

Daniel: Does Charles know

Lando: ABSOLUTELY NOT HE WILL COMBUST WE’RE TALKING INDEPENDENT-NUCLEAR-REACTION LEVEL MELTDOWN

Oscar: I need you to calm down so I can freak out at a normal pace.

Lando: WHAT DO I EVEN WEAR WHAT IF I CRY I’M NOT READY FOR THIS I WAS EMOTIONALLY UNPREPARED

I’M GOING TO SOB THROUGH THE LENS BELLE IS GOING TO LOOK SO PRETTY MAX IS GOING TO BE SO SOFT I’M GOING TO NEED A DESIGNATED HUG

Oscar: What are we supposed to wear?! Are we coordinating?? Do I bring flowers??

Lando: I DON’T KNOW I’M PANICKING I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF I’M A GUEST OR THE PHOTOGRAPHER OR BOTH

Daniel: You’re definitely crying, though. Let’s be honest.

Lando: 100%. I already feel it building

Oscar: Okay but seriously—do we all go? Did he actually invite us?

Lando: He said it’s small. “Just us. People we trust.” Which… I think is us?

Oscar: Do we need to bring gifts?? What’s the etiquette on emergency weddings?

Daniel: I can’t believe we’re invited and Charles isn’t

Oscar: I can. Max said “people we trust.” That tells you everything.

Daniel: God, I love this sport.

Oscar: This isn’t the sport. This is a secret Verstappen wedding at City Hall with zero warning and maximum chaos.

Daniel: Exactly.

Lando: I need to sleep so I don’t have puffy eyes but I’m emotionally compromised

Oscar: Same. See you both in the morning?

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Jos Verstappen

Max: You still in Monaco?

Jos: Yes. Leaving tomorrow evening. Why?

Max: City Hall. 10:45.

Jos: …What’s happening at City Hall?

Max: Getting married.

Jos: To Belle?

Max: Obviously to Belle.

Jos: You’re telling me this now?

Max: We decided tonight. There was an opening. She doesn’t want a big wedding. She just wants peace. Me. Us.

Jos: Good. She’s smart. And you’ve taken long enough.

Max: Will you come?

Jos: Wouldn’t miss it.

Max: It’s quiet. No press. No team. Just us. Some friends we trust. Family.

Jos: I said I’ll be there. Don’t make me get sentimental about it.

Max: Too late. You already like her more than you like me.

Jos: She’s never crashed a go-kart out of spite.

Max: That was one time.

Jos: Still counts.

Max: Thanks, Papa.

Jos: You’ve done good, Max. Really good. See you in the morning.

***

Emilie Abadie had been awake since three in the morning. .

Not because she was nervous. She wasn’t the one getting married.

It was Belle’s wedding. And that meant it had to be perfect.

Because Belle would never ask for perfect. Belle would shrug and say “just something quiet, just us” with that soft look in her eyes like she didn’t dare hope for more. But Emilie had spent the last seven years learning the difference between what Belle asked for and what she deserved.

And today, she deserved everything.

And perfection, as it turned out, required bribing a florist with a bottle of Dom Pérignon, whispering at a baker’s front door like a criminal, and coordinating a last-minute restaurant buyout with a maître d’ who still remembered Belle and Max’s first date like it had happened yesterday.

It was still early. The sun hadn’t quite cleared the rooftops of Monaco. But Emilie was already in motion—dressed, phone in hand, espresso in the other, a determined woman on a mission.

The florist had said it couldn’t be done. Snowdrops weren’t in season. They’d laughed—laughed—when Emilie asked.

Laughed. Emilie still remembered when Belle had told her about her favourite flowers. Fragile, quiet, perfect. Blooming in the cold, when nothing else did. Just like Belle.

Emilie Abadie didn’t take no for an answer.

She made five calls.

Then ten.

Then offered double the price.

Then triple.

Someone from a specialty hothouse near Nice came through. A courier had arrived an hour ago, carrying a chilled box like it held diplomatic secrets.

Now, the bouquet sat in a vase on Emilie’s kitchen counter. Fragile white snowdrops, soft eucalyptus, and one or two sprigs of pale forget-me-nots.

Because Emilie was dramatic, and because Belle deserved to be remembered in every way that mattered.

The cake was next.

Not a tiered monstrosity. Just something beautiful. Elegant. White chocolate and raspberry with buttercream. The baker—an angel Emilie had gone to culinary school with for exactly three weeks—had rolled her eyes at the timeline and then agreed with a huff. “Only because it’s for Belle.”

Of course it was.

Emilie knew how much Belle had given. To her family. To her brothers. To Ferrari. To everyone except herself.

She’d watched Belle quietly shrink herself for years—make room for Lorenzo, for Charles, for Arthur, for Charles’ career, for the Leclerc family myth.

Belle never asked for much. Never expected anything back.

So today, Emilie would give her everything.

The final piece fell into place just after sunrise: lunch at the restaurant where Max had taken Belle on their first date. The cozy one tucked behind the port with the ivy-covered terrace and the little hand-painted plates. Emilie had called the manager at 6:15 a.m.

“I need the whole place,” she’d said. “15 people. Three bottles of Perrier-Jouët Belle Époque. No fuss. No press. Max and Belle Verstappen.”

The Manager had paused and looked at Emilie:. “Ah,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “For the couple who ordered the wine, then forgot to drink it because they were too busy falling in love?”

By 6:00, the venue was booked. The menu was set. The staff had already started laying out fresh linen.

Emilie checked the list one more time—flowers, cake, lunch, Max’s boutonnière, Belle’s shoes.

Everything was ready.

Emilie slipped her phone into her bag, gave the bouquet one last fond glance, and smiled to herself.

Because today—finally—was about Belle. Not Charles. Not their mother. Not a team or a trophy or anyone else’s spotlight.

Today was hers.

And Emilie Abadie would make sure not a single petal was out of place.

***

The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting golden light across the kitchen tile. It was quiet, peaceful, and smelled faintly of toast and coffee.

Max stood barefoot at the stove, his curls still messy from sleep, flipping something in a pan with practiced ease. Belle was perched on the counter in one of his old shirts, legs swinging gently, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“So,” Max said, without looking at her, “do I get to call you Mrs. Verstappen by noon?”

Belle smirked into her cup. “You say that like it’s a threat.”

He turned, brandishing the spatula. “It is. You’re marrying a man who owns three sim rigs and talks to his cats.”

“Bold of you to assume that’s not the exact reason I said yes.”

Max grinned and came closer, slipping between her knees as she set her mug down. His hands landed on her hips. “You nervous?”

“No.” She let her forehead rest against his. “Just… full.”

“Full?”

“Of everything. Gratitude. Peace. Butterflies.”

Max kissed her, gentle and grounding. “Good. Me too.”

The moment was quiet again. Warm and soft.

Until— BANG.

The front door flew open.

“—DO NOT PANIC,” came Emilie’s voice from the hallway, “I have the cake, I have the emergency double-stick tape, I have the snowdrops—do not ask how—and I am here to take the bride.”

Belle groaned and leaned against Max’s shoulder. “She’s already started.”

Max was laughing when Emilie rounded the corner, her arms full of garment bags, shoe boxes, and a box of pastries balanced precariously on top.

She froze at the sight of them. “Okay, this is cute and domestic, but time is ticking and you—” she pointed at Belle with a dramatic flourish, “—need to be in a robe, drinking champagne, and pretending to be relaxed.”

Belle slid off the counter. “We haven’t even had breakfast.”

“I brought croissants. And mimosas. And eye masks. Let’s go.”

Max raised a brow. “Should I be worried?”

“Absolutely,” Emilie said, already dragging Belle toward the hallway.

Belle shot Max a helpless smile over her shoulder as she was swept away into the bedroom.

Max chuckled and turned back to the stove. “She’s been waiting for this since the day we met.”

“YOU PROMISED NEVER TO SPEAK OF THAT,” Emilie shouted back.

The apartment settled for a beat.

And then the doorbell rang.

Max opened it to find Victoria, already glowing despite being eight months pregnant, her husband Tom hauling what appeared to be a bouquet the size of a toddler, and both of their sons clinging to his legs like adorable koalas.

Sophie was right behind them, holding a wrapped box and beaming. “Where’s my daughter-in-law?”

Max stepped back. “Currently being kidnapped by a woman wielding florals and threat-level energy.”

“Ah,” Sophie said brightly, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “So the usual.”

Victoria waddled in and immediately headed for the kitchen. “Where’s the coffee? I need caffeine and at least one chair that won’t collapse under me.”

Tom followed with the flowers. “We brought noise. And crumbs. You’re welcome.”

The boys immediately made for the cats, causing a small riot in the living room.

Max leaned back against the counter, a smile tugging at his mouth as he watched his family pour in. “This is going to be a day.”

“Of course it is,” Sophie said, setting down her gift. “You’re marrying the best girl in Monaco.”

And just then, as if summoned, Emilie poked her head out of the hallway.

“Max,” she said solemnly. “You’re not allowed to see her for at least three hours. Also, she’s glowing. Prepare yourself.”

Then she vanished again.

Max laughed, shaking his head. “I already am.”

***

Max was mid-cleanup from the first round of croissant carnage when the intercom buzzed again.

He pressed the button. “Yeah?”

“Delivery,” came Oscar’s voice, dry and very much not a delivery person.

Max buzzed them in.

Thirty seconds later, Oscar and Lily walked in—Lily looking radiant in a pale floral dress, Oscar in a navy suit that made him look vaguely uncomfortable but also suspiciously good. There was box of macarons in Lily’s arms and Oscar carrying a bottle of champagne with all the solemnity of someone delivering a newborn child.

Lily kissed Max’s cheek. “Where’s Belle?”

“Bedroom,” Max said. “Emilie has barricaded the door. I’m not allowed to breathe near it.”

“Good,” Lily said. “You’ll see her when she’s ready. And not a second before!” she call over her shoulder as she made her way to where all the women had disappeared to.

“Do we look like well-adjusted guests?” Oscar asked, holding out the champagner, just as the doorbell rang again

Tom opened it this time—and immediately stepped back to avoid being hit in the face by a wildly enthusiastic Daniel Ricciardo, who practically burst in with his arms open.

“IT’S WEDDING TIME, BABY!” Daniel yelled, already grinning like he’d won the lottery.

Max raised his coffee cup without looking up. “You’re three hours early.”

“I brought champagne. I’m never early. I’m… emotionally prepared.”

Before anyone could respond, the door buzzed again.

“Please let that be someone calm,” Max muttered, walking to the door just as Lando arrived—In a grey suit, camera strap across his chest, looking like a documentary filmmaker who’d taken a wrong turn into a very glamorous rom-com.

“Okay,” Lando said in lieu of a greeting, “I brought the camera, the backup camera, the battery pack, and three lenses I don’t know how to use, but they make me look professional. Also, Lily said if I forgot to wear a tie, she’d strangle me with it, so here.” He pointed to the pale blue tie knotted (badly) around his neck.

“You’re fine,” Max said. “Unless Emilie sees that knot.”

“I tied it,” Lando said defensively. “I didn’t say I tied it well.”

“You’ve had years to learn how to tie a tie,” Oscar muttered.

Daniel patted Lando’s shoulder. “It’s fine. You look like a best man in a Netflix wedding movie about a surfer who marries his childhood pen pal.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“I know what I said,” Daniel replied, stealing a macaron.

Max raised an eyebrow at Lando. “You know how to use that camera, right?”

“Please,” Lando said, lifting it and adjusting the lens. “I’m going to make you look like Vogue Monaco meets soft romance. This is going to go viral.”

Before Max could close the door, a final knock came—this one slower, more composed.

He opened it to GP, impeccable in a dark suit with a navy tie, and Jos, arms crossed, expression somewhere between “approving” and “this is ridiculous.”

“Everyone’s here?” GP asked as he stepped in.

“No explosions yet,” Max said. “Just Daniel.”

“Rude,” Daniel yelled from the kitchen, where he was now petting Jimmy the cat and eating a croissant at the same time.

Jos gave Max a firm nod as he walked in. “You’re dressed?”

“Soon.”

Jos looked around the apartment, at the whirlwind of laughter and movement, at the family Max had built around himself. He gave the smallest huff—soft, for him. “Good turnout.”

“I think Daniel invited himself,” Max said dead pan. .

Jos glanced around again. “Still. Good people.”

Max nodded. “Yeah. The best.”

***

Belle had always imagined getting ready for her wedding surrounded by chaos.

She thought it would feel frantic, like the final fifteen minutes before a birthday dinner she wasn’t sure anyone would show up for—stressful, too loud, a little heartbreaking.

Instead, it felt like calm.

It felt like quiet laughter drifting in from the kitchen, the scent of espresso and lilacs filling the apartment. It felt like warm hands braiding the back of her hair, like silk slipping over her skin, like music humming low from the speaker on the windowsill.

It felt like peace.

She sat on the edge of the bed, barefoot, as Victoria carefully clipped the final snowdrop into her hair. Emilie was crouched by the full-length mirror, fussing with the hem of Belle’s dress, hung up. Lily and Sophie were there too, with Lilly the cat having decided that Lily the human was her new favourite person, while Sophie was rooting around Belle’s jewellery box for earrings to wear.

It should’ve hurt.

That it wasn’t Pascale doing her hair. That it wasn’t her mother reminding her not to forget earrings or perfume or to stand up straight when she walked. That there was no Leclerc fussing around her, pretending to know best.

But somehow, it didn’t.

She’d braced herself for the ache—for the empty chair, the hollow weight of what should’ve been. But the ache never came.

Because these women? They were enough.

They were more than enough.

Then Victoria cocked her head, glancing toward the bedroom door. “By the way, are your brothers coming?”

Emilie stiffened subtly from her place near the hem. Lily glanced down at her nails.

Sophie, sipping her tea, looked up in quiet expectation.

Belle hesitated.

And then—because the lie felt too heavy in her throat, and because this was her wedding day, and she was done making excuses for people who couldn’t be bothered—she exhaled and said, simply, “They forgot my birthday.”

The room stilled.

Victoria blinked. “What?”

Belle looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. “It was race day. Monaco. Charles was on pole. Ferrari was chaos. I was in the garage all day and no one said anything. Not Charles. Not Arthur. Not Lorenzo. Not even Maman.”

Sophie sat very still. Her expression didn’t shift immediately—like she hadn’t quite processed what she’d just heard.

Victoria, on the other hand, reacted instantly.

“You’re kidding,” she said, straightening up. “They forgot? All of them?”

Belle nodded once. “I didn’t remind them.”

“But you were there,” Victoria said, voice rising. “You were literally standing in the garage wearing red! You’re his sister—how do you forget that?!”

Sophie’s mug landed gently on the vanity table. She didn’t speak, just watched Belle carefully, her eyes full of something Belle couldn’t name yet.

“They looked right through me,” Belle said, not bitter, just… quiet. “Like I wasn’t even there. Like I was just…invisible.”

Victoria stood up abruptly. “I swear to God, if I wasn’t about to pop out a baby I would’ve dragged Charles by the ear into a flower shop myself.”

“Vic,” Belle said, soft but firm.

“No,” Victoria said, eyes shining now. “You stood by them. All weekend. All year. You show up for every stupid photo call and PR stunt and family function, and they forgot your birthday?”

Emilie stayed crouched on the floor, head bowed over the dress, silent but trembling with restrained rage.

Lily’s hands were folded tightly in her lap.

Belle reached out and touched Victoria’s hand, grounding her. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“No,” Belle agreed quietly. “But you remembered.”

That made Victoria pause. Her face crumpled for a second before she leaned forward and pulled Belle into the gentlest hug she could manage with her belly between them. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered fiercely. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Belle blinked, eyes stinging but dry. “It doesn’t matter today.”

Sophie knelt beside her then, unexpectedly, and took her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

“I know,” Belle said. And she did. “You’re here. That’s more than enough.”

Victoria wiped under her eyes. “Do you want us to say something? To tell them?”

Belle shook her head. “No. I want to see how long it takes.”

The silence settled again.

And then Sophie squeezed her hand and said, with quiet certainty, “You’re not invisible anymore, sweetheart. Not here. Not ever again.”

And that was what Belle held onto, as she stood and turned toward the mirror—surrounded not by the family she’d been born into, but by the one she’d found along the way.

The right people had remembered.

And that was enough.

***

The bedroom door clicked gently shut behind Sophie as she stepped into the hallway, needing a breath. Just a moment of stillness. The wedding would begin in a little over two hours, and Belle—darling, radiant Belle—was in her bedroom with snowdrops in her hair and an ache buried so deep behind her smile Sophie could feel it like a bruise under her own ribs.

She leaned lightly against the wall, one hand wrapped around her teacup, the other resting protectively over her heart. She didn’t cry—not easily, not anymore. But her chest felt tight.

Footsteps approached, soft and quick. Emilie, Belle’s best friend, slipped out of the bedroom a moment later, arms crossed, mouth pressed into a thin line. She looked like she was holding back a war.

Their eyes met.

“You knew,” Sophie said quietly.

Emilie stilled. Her expression didn’t change. “Max told me,” she said quietly. “Belle didn’t want it to become a thing. She didn’t want pity.”

Sophie’s grip on her teacup tightened.

“She said she wanted to see how long it would take them,” Emilie added, her voice softening. “How many days would pass before someone noticed.”

Sophie looked away, blinking hard at the hallway wall. “Her own mother,” she murmured. “Her own brothers forgot her birthday.”

Emilie’s jaw clenched. “Her brothers. Her mother. Ferrari. Nothing. Not even a text. Carlos was the only one who remembered, and she begged him not to say anything because she didn’t want pity.”

Sophie’s stomach twisted. “And she stood in that garage, all day…”

“In red,” Emilie said, voice flat. “Supporting Charles. Watching them celebrate. She didn’t ask for much, Sophie. She never does.”

“She gave them everything,” Emilie said. Her voice cracked, just slightly. “And they forgot her birthday. They forgot her.”

Sophie nodded, eyes shining but clear. “Not anymore. Not after today.”

There was a long pause, filled with the sound of faint laughter from the living room and the low hum of a wedding morning in motion.

Then Emilie exhaled shakily. “Max said she broke down the second she saw him.”

Sophie closed her eyes for a beat.

It wasn’t just forgetfulness. It wasn’t a mistake. It was neglect wrapped in a red suit and family pride. It was inexcusable.

“She’ll never be alone again,” Sophie said, her voice steel beneath the softness. “Not while I’m breathing. Not while Max is.”

“I know,” Emilie said. “That’s the only reason I didn’t walk into Ferrari and slap someone.”

They stood in silence again, shoulder to shoulder.

Then Sophie reached over and gently squeezed Emilie’s hand.

“You did this for her,” she said. “The flowers. The cake. The restaurant. You gave her the kind of day they never thought to.”

Emilie’s eyes went glassy. “She deserves perfect. I couldn’t give her perfect, but—”

“You gave her love,” Sophie said firmly. “And that’s what matters.”

***

The apartment had quieted.

Everyone had settled into easy, pre-ceremony chaos—little moments scattered across the rooms like confetti before the storm. Daniel was dramatically explaining champagne etiquette to Oscar, who looked halfway between fascinated and alarmed. Lando was on the floor, coaxing Jimmy the cat into an impromptu wedding-themed photoshoot. Tom sat cross-legged on the couch, reading a picture book to Luka and Lio, the boys draped over him like sleepy lion cubs.

Max stood in the kitchen, coffee mug in hand, back to the counter, staring out the window toward the glittering stretch of Monaco coastline. The city buzzed quietly beyond the glass. But in here, for now, there was stillness.

The kind of stillness right before the most important lap of your life.

GP stepped up beside him without a word, mirroring his stance with practiced ease. They didn’t speak at first. They didn’t have to.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” GP said eventually, voice low.

Max nodded. “I know.”

“You were always good,” GP added. “But you’re not just good now. You’re… grounded. Steady.”

Max exhaled, eyes still on the view. “She gave me somewhere to land.”

GP’s expression shifted just slightly—quiet pride, maybe. “You’ve always fought for every tenth, every inch. But with Belle? You stopped fighting yourself.”

Max glanced at him, something tired and raw in his eyes. “She sees everything. Even the parts I didn’t want anyone to see.”

“She never asked you to change.”

“She didn’t have to,” Max said.

They stood in silence again, until a familiar voice cut in behind them.

“She’s not just your landing place,” Jos said, stepping into the kitchen, arms folded. “She’s your spine.”

Max turned, but didn’t speak.

Jos’s face was set. Not angry, but serious in that sharp, bone-deep way that came from decades of knowing how to read race tape and sons in equal measure.

“I wasn’t easy on you,” Jos said quietly. “I know that. I pushed too hard. Expected too much. Thought it was the only way you’d be great.”

Max swallowed, but didn’t interrupt.

“But Belle…” Jos looked toward the hallway, where a burst of laughter echoed from the bedroom. “She gave you something I couldn’t. Peace. Balance. You didn’t slow down. But you stopped burning out.”

GP gave a soft hum of agreement, but said nothing.

Jos stepped forward, brow furrowed now. “And she shows up for you. For everyone. All the time.”

Max nodded slowly. “She does.”

Jos shook his head, voice tight now. “So why the hell did her family forget her birthday?”

The silence hit like a dropped hammer.

Max looked up, sharp. “You know?”

“I overheard Emilie talking to Sophie in the hallway,” Jos said. His voice was low, but thunderous. “You’re telling me her entire family forgot? Her mother? Her brothers? Even Ferrari?”

Max’s jaw clenched.

GP was still, hands in his pockets, but his voice came out even. “They didn’t just forget. They looked straight through her in the garage. Carlos was the only one who noticed. She told him not to say anything.”

Jos looked furious in the quiet way only a father could—like he was cataloging every hurt, every slight, and filing them away for later retribution.

“She stood there,” he muttered. “All day. On her birthday. Wearing red. And they didn’t see her?”

“She didn’t cry until after,” Max said, his voice low. “But when she did… it broke her.”

Jos looked at him. “She tell them?”

“No,” Max said. “She’s done reminding people she exists.”

Jos’s shoulders shifted, like he was bracing himself against something. “Good. Let them feel that silence.”

Max stared down at his coffee cup for a moment, then set it aside.

“I’m going to spend the rest of my life making her feel seen,” he said, steady now. “The way they never did. The way she deserves.”

GP gave a quiet, approving nod. “Then you’re ready.”

Jos didn’t say anything for a long beat.

Then he stepped forward, placed a firm hand on Max’s shoulder, and said, with something rough in his voice, “She’s already ours. But make it official.”

Max blinked hard.

***

The kitchen had been peaceful—a relative term, given there were six men, two toddler, three cats, and a bottle of champagne open by 9 a.m.—but peaceful by Verstappen standards.

Max was leaning against the counter, sipping his coffee while Jos surveyed the chaos in thinly veiled amusement, and Tom tried to get jam off his shirt collar thanks to a child-induced pastry incident.

Then the storm arrived.

Emilie swept into the kitchen like a tiny, immaculately-dressed hurricane, her eyes narrowing the instant she caught sight of Lando.

“Why,” Emilie said, appearing in the doorway like a Roman general entering enemy territory, “are half of you not wearing ties?”

“You,” she declared, pointing with a precision that would’ve made a military officer proud.

Lando looked up from where he’d been fiddling with his camera settings. “Me?”

“You call that a tie?” she said, already moving toward him like a missile in heels. “What is that knot? A shoelace? A cry for help? Is that your idea of a tied tie?”

Lando looked down at the pale blue knot that resembled something between a tangled seatbelt and an existential crisis. “Technically… yes?”

Emilie sighed so dramatically it could have won an award. “Come here.”

Lando, blushing furiously, stood like a man facing execution. “You’re kind of scary,” he muttered.

“I’m not scary,” she said, adjusting his collar. “I’m just French and disappointed.”

Max leaned against the counter, watching with mild amusement as Lando was wrangled into place. Emilie was adjusting the tie like she’d done it a thousand times, completely unfazed by the 5 feet, 6 inches of confused British man blinking at her.

Lando stood frozen, blinking down at the very pretty girl fixing his tie with the terrifying precision of someone who had made wedding planning a full-contact sport.

“Can I breathe yet?” Lando asked, voice faint.

“When I say you can,” Emilie replied sweetly, stepping back and tilting his chin. “Fashion is pain,” Emilie said sweetly, patting his cheek. “Suffer with dignity.”

“I’m… scared of her,” Lando muttered to Max once she turned away.

“You should be,” Max replied, utterly unbothered.

“Okay,” Emilie said, spinning on her heel, “who’s next—”

Her eyes landed on Tom.

Tom, who had attempted to get away with a cravat.

She narrowed her eyes. “What is this? Pride and Prejudice?”

“I was trying to be elegant,” Tom said defensively, one child clinging to each of his legs like barnacles.

“This is Monaco, not Pemberley,” Emilie replied, already reaching into her tote bag like Mary Poppins from hell. “Lose the cravat.”

Five seconds later, Tom had a new blue tie around his neck.

Jos, leaning near the counter with a coffee, smirked.

“I’d like to see her try that with me,” he muttered.

Emilie pivoted.

Jos raised a brow.

She raised both.

“Unless you’d like to be mistaken for security and asked to stay outside,” she said coolly, “you’ll put one on.”

There was a pause.

Then—without breaking eye contact—Jos slowly reached for the tie GP handed him with what looked suspiciously like amusement.

“I like her,” he said to no one in particular.

Emilie snapped her fingers at Daniel next. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” Daniel asked, grinning. “This tie is excellent. It has tiny cartoon race cars on it!”

“And you are a groomsman not a children’s birthday clown,” Emilie replied. “Change. Now.”

“But—”

“I will burn it,” she said calmly. “I have a lighter in my purse.”

Daniel blinked. “Wow. Okay. Yep. Good. I’ll change.”

Only Oscar and GP escaped unscathed—Oscar because Lily had pre-approved his ensemble, and GP because he was actually a functional adult.

Emilie gave them a nod of silent approval. “Finally. Men who understand basic dress codes.”

Max was watching all of it from the corner, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest and a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Emilie spotted him.

“You’re next.”

“I already did mine,” Max said, lifting his chin.

Emilie narrowed her eyes, came closer, and tugged gently at the knot. It was fine. Almost perfect.

“It’s crooked.”

He didn’t even argue. Just tilted his chin and let her fix it. She did so with practiced fingers, then stepped back and gave him a once-over.

“You’ll do.”

Max smirked. “High praise.”

“You’re marrying my best friend. You’re lucky I didn’t make you wear the floral pocket square.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Max said, grinning.

Then the apartment stilled.

Because the bedroom door opened.

And Belle stepped out.

Max looked up—and every word left his brain.

She stood there in the soft light of morning, her white dress falling like water around her, the snowdrops tucked into her curls catching the sunlight. Her hands were folded gently in front of her, her eyes finding his across the room.

Max didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

The chaos of the morning vanished.

It was just her.

Standing in the archway in a white dress that somehow managed to be simple and devastating at the same time. Her dark hair was curled and loosely pinned, a few snowdrops tucked gently above her ear. She had one hand loosely holding a bouquet, and the other nervously adjusting her sleeve. Her eyes swept the room, soft and uncertain—

Until they found his.

Max forgot how to breathe.

“Hi,” she said, voice quiet, like it was just for him.

Max swallowed. His throat was suddenly too tight.

He took a slow step forward, then another, like any sudden movement might shatter the moment. When he stopped in front of her, his hands hovered for a second before finally settling on her waist.

“You’re—” He couldn’t finish.

Belle tilted her head. “I’m what?”

Max blinked, and his eyes burned. He hadn’t expected that.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, barely above a whisper. “You’re so—”

She smiled, soft and real and a little shy.

“Max,” she said gently, reaching up to brush her fingers against his jaw. “Breathe.”

“I can’t,” he admitted, voice cracking. “You look like a dream I’d never let myself have.”

Belle’s smile faltered—just for a second—then turned into something deeper. Warmer. Her eyes shimmered.

Daniel, somewhere behind them, sniffled. “Okay, I take it back. This is romantic enough to ruin my day.”

“Shut up, Daniel,” Oscar muttered.

But Max didn’t hear any of it.

He only saw her.

The girl who’d stood in a Ferrari garage on her birthday and been forgotten. The woman who’d cried in his arms and still said yes. The one person who saw him fully and never once turned away.

And now she was standing in his kitchen—in their kitchen—in a white dress and snowdrops.

Looking at him like he was home.

“Ready?” she whispered.

Max nodded, his hands tightening gently on her waist.

“More than ever.”

And when he kissed her—just once, careful not to smudge her lipstick—the whole room exhaled with them.

They had a wedding to get to.

But for that moment, they were already everything.

***

Belle had walked into a hundred government buildings before. Cold hallways. Beige walls. Bored clerks behind scratched counters. Monaco’s city hall should have felt the same—official, impersonal, municipal.

But today?

It felt like walking into a cathedral.

This wasn’t the wedding she had imagined as a little girl.

There was no aisle of flowers. No choir. No dramatic gown or fanfare or chandeliers. Her mother wasn’t there. Neither were her brothers. There were no headlines.

And still—it was perfect.

This was hers.

This was theirs.

Small. Quiet. Real.

She squeezed Max’s hands. He squeezed back.

And as the officiant began to speak, Belle felt a slow warmth fill her from the inside out.

You’re not invisible anymore, she told herself. You never were. Not to him.

And in that moment, under the soft light and quiet vows and steady eyes of the only man she’d ever trusted with her whole heart—

Isabelle Leclerc became Belle Verstappen.

And for the first time in her life, she didn’t need the world to notice.

She had everything she needed right in front of her.

She hadn’t written anything down for the vows.

There was a version of Belle that would have. That would’ve planned every word, practiced every pause, agonized over saying it all just right.

But not today.

Because nothing about Max had ever needed performance.

The officiant nodded to her gently. “Belle?”

She took a breath. And then another. Max didn’t rush her. He just waited—hands in hers, thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles, grounding her.

“I don’t think I ever believed love could be soft,” she said quietly. “Not the kind that lasts. I thought it had to be earned. Proved. Negotiated into place.”

Her voice wavered. Max didn’t blink.

“I spent so much time being the one who remembered everyone. Who carried everything quietly. And I think I started to believe that was the best I could hope for. That if I was useful enough, maybe I’d be loved in return.”

She looked up, eyes shining.

“And then I met you,” Belle continued. “And you didn’t ask me to perform. You didn’t ask me to be anything but exactly who I already was. You saw me. Even when I didn’t want to be seen. Especially then.”

Her voice shook, just a little. Max’s thumb brushed across her knuckles.

“I’ve spent so much of my life holding other people’s pieces,” she said, “but you—Max—you were the first person who held mine. Quietly. Gently. Steadily. You never tried to fix me. You just stayed.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she let it. Didn’t wipe it away.

“So I promise to stay, too. To be soft where the world is hard. To be the quiet when everything gets too loud. To love you in the way you’ve always deserved but never asked for.”

And when she smiled, Max smiled back—like the sun had finally come up.

The officiant nodded to him.

“Max?”

He exhaled, but didn’t look away from her. He lifted her hands to his lips first, kissed them gently, and held them between them like they were the only steady thing in the world.

“I don’t remember the moment I fell in love with you,” he said softly. “It just happened, like a breath you take…quietly and then all at once.”

Belle’s breath caught. He held her gaze, steady and unwavering.

“I never thought I’d be lucky enough to love someone like you,” he said softly. “Someone who sees through everything. Who remembers the smallest things and never asks for credit. Who holds the weight of the world and still has room to make me feel like I’m home.”

His voice cracked then.

“You are not invisible. Not to me. You never were. I see you, Belle. Every version. Every scar. Every soft edge you try to tuck away. And I love you for all of it.”

Belle’s lips trembled.

Max’s thumb brushed along her hand again.

“I promise to hold you, every day. To never let you feel alone in a room full of people again. I promise to be your quiet, your home, your person. Forever.”

There wasn’t a sound in the room. Not a breath. Even the officiant cleared his throat like he needed a second.

Belle didn’t speak.

She just leaned forward—slow and sure—and pressed her forehead to Max’s.

And everything else fell away.

Her hands were still in his. Her forehead was resting against Max’s. Her heart was loud—but steady.

She could feel his breath on her cheek. The way his thumbs brushed hers. How he didn’t look away. How he never did.

The officiant’s voice was calm, warm. “Do you, Max Emilian Verstappen, take Isabelle Amélie Thérèse Éléonore Leclerc to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” Max said instantly. No hesitation. No breath between.

“And do you, Isabelle Amélie Thérèse Éléonore Leclerc, take Max Emilian Verstappen to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” she whispered, and it was the easiest truth she’d ever spoken.

The officiant smiled.

“Then by the authority vested in me by the Principality of Monaco, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

A pause.

“You may kiss—”

But Max didn’t wait.

He kissed her the second the words left the officiant’s mouth.

It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t gentle either. It was grounding. Fierce. Like he’d been holding his breath for a lifetime and could finally exhale.

Belle kissed him back just as hard, hands in his hair, heart pounding.

There were cheers. Scattered applause. Laughter.

And then—

“NOW!” Daniel’s voice rang out from the back like a commander on a battlefield.

Belle broke the kiss just in time to see it:

A blur of chaos. Daniel and Oscar tossing flower petals like overenthusiastic flower girls, flinging them directly at them.

Belle let out a laugh so sudden it startled even her. Max was still holding her hand, laughing softly too, eyes never leaving her.

“Seriously?” he murmured under his breath.

“This was always going to happen,” Belle replied, grinning.

Victoria was crying. Sophie was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief Jos was blinking suspiciously fast.

And Emilie?Emilie was smiling so big Belle’s heart almost burst.

Belle looked back at Max—her husband. Her husband—and felt something settle in her chest.

This was hers.

Messy. Soft. Completely perfect.

And just beginning.

Max leaned down again, kissed her forehead. “Mrs. Verstappen,” he said, voice low and thrilled and a little overwhelmed.

She smiled up at him. “Mr. Verstappen.”

And Belle had never, ever felt so seen.

***

Belle hadn’t stepped into Overture in over a year.

It still looked the same—tucked into a quiet side street just off Port Hercule, all pale stone and soft wood, sunlight spilling through ivy-wrapped windows. There were no banners. No “Congratulations” signs. No garish floral arches.

Just one long table set under a canopy of olive branches in the back courtyard, decorated in quiet whites and soft greens. Candles flickered in the breeze. Snowdrops—snowdrops, in May—were tucked into every napkin ring.

Belle turned to Emilie, who only raised an eyebrow and said, “Don’t ask how. I threatened a florist and bribed an importer.”

“You’re terrifying,” Belle whispered, blinking back tears.

“You’re worth it,” Emilie replied.

Laughter echoed as guests filtered into the courtyard. Daniel declared he would be in charge of pouring champagne. Lando was trying to fit three cameras into one discreet corner. Jos already had a drink in hand and was engaged in a deeply serious conversation with Oscar, who looked vaguely terrified. Lily and Sophie had settled into a side table with quiet smiles and quiet tears.

Their table filled slowly—Victoria easing into a seat with a dramatic sigh, her hand protectively on her bump, Tom at her side, two rambunctious boys wrecking havoc. Emilie adjusted every flower and napkin with military precision. Someone had even tied the cats’ names onto little placeholders even though they were obviously not present.

They toasted with champagne and laughed until they couldn’t breathe.

There was no DJ. No cake tower. No press outside.

Just a warm breeze. Clinking glasses. The people who had shown up.

Midway through lunch, Daniel stood abruptly, champagne flute in hand. “To Max and Belle,” he grinned. “May your love be as steady as GP’s voice in Max’s ear, and as dramatic as Oscar trying to parallel park.”

Oscar, mid-bite, choked.

Belle laughed so hard she had to put her fork down.

And then, as the laughter died down, GP stood. Slowly. Unassumingly. Everyone quieted with the kind of instinctive respect only earned by someone who rarely asked for the room.

GP cleared his throat, glancing briefly toward Belle, then Max.

“I’m not one for speeches,” he said, hands loosely folded, gaze sweeping the table. “But I’ve watched Max for a long time. Through wins and losses. Through fire and fury and everything in between. And I’ve never seen him more certain. More grounded. More… at peace, than when he looks at you, Belle.”

She looked down, blinking fast. Max took her hand under the table.

GP’s voice softened. “So thank you. For being that peace. For loving him the way he didn’t even know he needed. You make him better, Belle. But not because you ask him to change. You make him better by seeing him. Fully. And somehow, without ever stepping onto the track, you’ve become the most important part of our team.”

He lifted his glass. “To you both. For reminding us that there’s strength in stillness, and love in the quiet corners.”

Belle blinked fast, lips parted, chest aching in the best way.

Max reached over, tangled their fingers together under the table.

The meal ended with a cake—simple, white, laced with raspberry and white chocolate. Belle stared at it, already emotional, as Emilie leaned over and whispered smugly, “Don’t cry. You’re wearing mascara.”

“I hate you,” Belle whispered.

“You love me.”

Belle reached over and took her hand, eyes shining. “I do. I really, really do. Thank you for all of this. For… everything. You gave me the kind of day I didn’t know I was allowed to want.”

Emilie’s expression softened. “You deserved it. All of it.”

This wasn’t the wedding Belle had once imagined—the ballroom, the crowd, the spectacle.

It was better.

It was quiet, and full of laughter. It smelled like eucalyptus and honey. It tasted like home.

And most importantly: it felt like love.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

Lando: 👀

[sends: 5 stunning, sun-drenched wedding photos from Monaco city hall. Max in a dark suit, Belle in a soft white dress, snowdrops in her hair] ❤️💍

Lewis: wait. wait. WHAT?

George: Lando Norris what the hell is this

Carlos: wait wait wait is that— IS THAT BELLE??? AND MAX?!?

Alex: THOSE ARE WEDDING PHOTOS REAL WEDDING PHOTOS WITH FLOWERS AND RINGS AND A WHOLE EMILIE IN THE BACKGROUND??

Mark: Holy shit they did it.

George: WHO TOOK THESE?? THESE ARE VOGUE-LEVEL

Fernando: Monaco’s lighting really is superior.

David: YOU DID NOT JUST POST THAT

Nico H: Lando WHAT

George: I— IS THAT MAX?! IS THAT BELLE?! IS THIS—THE WEDDING???

Daniel: ICONIC UNHINGED NO NOTES

Lewis: That’s the softest chaos I’ve ever seen. Also: beautiful. Congratulations to them both ❤️

Sebastian: That’s what love should look like. Simple. Fierce. True. Charles is going to set something on fire when he finds out.

Mark: He’s going to kill Max. Actually. Kill him.

David Coulthard: What are the odds we have to physically restrain Charles on sight

Nico R: Charles has not seen this yet, has he?

Carlos: …Charles is actually going to try and murder Max.

Nico R.: I give it 48 hours before Charles makes it about himself.

Nico H.: With his bare hands.

Sebastian: I’ll visit Max in prison. Bring snacks.

Lando: do you think if we just… don’t answer his calls… we can delay this

Kimi: Congrats. Cake looks good.

Lando: in conclusion: love won (also please someone hide me)

***

Meanwhile on Twitter:

@/SpottedInMonaco: Saw Oscar Piastri and Lily Zneimer leaving Monaco city hall earlier today. Suit. Dress. Smiling. That wasn’t a casual brunch outfit, I’m just saying.

@/GridGossip: I BEG YOUR PARDON.

@/TifosiTears: oscar piastri getting married and not telling us would be the most oscar piastri move of all time

@/mclarenmoments: DO NOT JOKE ABOUT THIS. I AM FRAGILE.

@/NicolePiastri: OSCAR. OSCAR JACK PIASTRI.

If you got married today and didn’t tell your MOTHER, I swear to GOD—

@/NicolePiastri: Do you think I don’t have Twitter alerts? Do you think I wouldn’t FIND OUT???

@/NicolePiastri: TEXT. ME. RIGHT. NOW.

@/OscarPiastri: Hi Mum. Deep breaths. I did not get married.

@/NicolePiastri: Are you SURE?

@/OscarPiastri: Very sure. I was just a guest. Completely unmarried and ringless.

@/NicolePiastri: Then WHY were you at city hall in MONACO??

@/OscarPiastri: Because people get married and sometimes I get invited!

@/NicolePiastri: Noted. But if you actually do get married without telling me, I will start a podcast called "My Son Got Married Without Me."

@/OscarPiastri: Duly noted.

@/PitLaneParanoia: Okay but if it wasn’t Oscar’s wedding… then whose was it???

@/gridshenanigans: WAIT. Wait wait wait. What if it was Lando’s wedding???

@/McLarenSpy: He has been weirdly quiet since the win in Miami…

@/chaoticpaddock: IMAGINE if Lando Norris just casually got married and let everyone spiral about Oscar instead.

***

Stream Transcript: Lando Norris & Max Fewtrell

Lando: (leans back in his chair, stretching) “Okay, chat, before you all start spamming—yes, I saw the Twitter stuff. Yes, I was at Monaco City Hall. No, I didn’t get married. You can all calm down.”

Chat:YOU GOT MARRIED?! WHO WAS IT THENOSCAR OR LANDOOOOOWHAT DO YOU MEAN "NO" STOP LYING TO US NORRIS

Max Fewtrell: (joining the stream, headphones askew) “Wait, wait, wait. Back up. What did I just walk into?”

Lando: (grinning way too hard) “Twitter thinks I got married.”

Max F: “...Did you???”

Lando: (sputtering) “What?! No! No, mate—God—why would I—? No!”

Max Fewtrell: (squints at him through the screen) “You’re acting weird. That’s exactly what someone who secretly got married would say.”

Lando: (waving his hands) “I was just at the city hall, okay? I was a guest. I brought my camera. That’s it.”

Chat:"JUST A GUEST" SUUUREHE’S FREAKING OUT OMGLANDO WHO WAS ITWHY ARE YOU SO SHADY

Max Fewtrell: “Wait… was it Oscar?”

Lando: (visibly sweating) “I—NO—it wasn’t Oscar. He was also a guest! He brought… macarons. Like a very elegant little wedding guest. And he wore a suit!”

Max Fewtrell: (laughs) “So if it wasn’t you or Oscar… who got married?”

Lando: (looks directly at camera, then away, then back again) “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Max Fewtrell: “Oh my God. It was someone! You little cryptid! You’re hiding something!”

Lando (visibly flustered): I WAS A GUEST. I HAD A TIE. THAT’S IT.

Max F: You’ve never worn a tie willingly in your life.

Lando: (panicking, adjusting his headset) “I’m just saying… maybe some people like their privacy, alright? Not everyone wants a big flashy wedding. Some people like… small things. Quiet things. With like… flowers and—”

Max Fewtrell: “Mate, you’re digging a hole. You might as well tell us.”

Lando: (points at camera) “Nope. I’m loyal. I’ve been sworn to secrecy. That’s it. That’s all I’m saying.”

Max Fewtrell: “Sworn to secrecy means it was someone! Confirmed! Chat, we’re getting somewhere.”

Lando: (leans forward, whispers into mic dramatically) “Chat, if I mysteriously disappear after this stream… I was never here.”

Chat: RIP LANDOHE’S GOING TO BE TAKEN OUT BY THE WEDDING MAFIATHIS IS BETTER THAN DRIVE TO SURVIVEFREE HIM

Max Fewtrell: “So to summarize: Oscar did not get married. Lando did not get married. But someone did. And Lando is freaking out.”

Lando: (facepalming) “Why did I open my mouth.”

Max Fewtrell: “Because you love chaos. That’s why.”

1K notes · View notes

goodnightandgo777 · 2 years ago

Text

It Might As Well Be Worth It For Once [h.c]

Summary: After a photo of you kissing your crush, Hazel Callahan, goes viral among students at your university, you try to navigate the backlash you receive on top of your newfound feelings for her.

Pairing: College!Hazel Callahan x College!fem!reader

Contains: reader sort of figuring out her sexuality, homophobia, explicit language, d slur, slut shaming, drinking, partying, violence, no explicit smut just heavy make-outs, scary ex-boyfriends, evil frat bros

word count: 3k

A/N: This is loosely inspired by Taylor Swift's song "Slut!" so listen if you want to set the mood!

Your first kiss with Hazel Callahan happened at a party, initiated by a simple dare. In the middle of a crowded kitchen, surrounded by sticky solo cups and cigarette smoke, you watched Hazel as she spoke. “Dare.” She stated to her brown-haired friend.

“Okay,” PJ starts and her eyes dart around the room,

“I dare you…” PJ’s eyes find you and she points her finger at your frame “to kiss her.”

“Real original, PJ,” Hazel remarks as she makes her way over to you.

At first, you didn't give it much thought, dismissing it as just a harmless dare amidst the alcohol-fueled chaos of the party. But as you followed through and Hazel's lips met yours, something in you shifted, and every sensation suddenly heightened. The taste of tequila on her tongue mixed with the smell of her sharp cologne made your head dizzy.

The kiss, though quick, left a new feeling that you couldn't forget. You were amazed at how in sync your movements were with each other, considering you barely knew Hazel. You’d seen her a couple of times in class, walking around campus in her stylish outfits, and at parties like these. She was friends with your roommate, Isabel, so she did run in the same social circle as you.

When Hazel eventually pulled away from the kiss, the absence of her touch left you wanting more. You leaned forward, instinctively chasing her lips. Embarrassment washed over you, reality kicking in, and you were suddenly hyper-aware of yourself. With the re-realization that it was just a game you were playing, you buried the feelings deep within your stomach, locking them away and deciding they should never be explored.

You found Hazel a few weeks later, outside one of the dorm buildings, returning home from another late night. That night, a couple of drinks deep, you summoned the courage to confess what had been consuming your thoughts. Her soft brown hair, her big blue eyes, her attractive scent, and how soft her lips were on yours.

Something felt different about your infatuation with Hazel, and you were dying to just be close to her again.

"I don’t know what it is about you, Hazel," you say, your back leaning against the side of the bricked building. "I’m never like this with anyone," you whisper, avoiding eye contact.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about our kiss, and I know that's ridiculous because it was just a stupid dare at a party." Hazel sensed your vulnerability in that moment. She took a step toward you and reached for your hand, gently playing with your fingers, which hung between both of you. As you rambled on, she stared and smiled at you, enjoying your attempt to express your feelings.

"Yeah?" She nodded at you, leaning in a bit closer with a cocky grin. "You liked it that much, huh?"

You avoided her gaze again, clearly growing more embarrassed.

"Well, I was never going to tell you this,” she sucked in a breath “But before the game started, I actually told PJ to dare me to kiss you. It was the only way I thought I was ever going to be able to." Her hand moved from your hand to your waist, squeezing gently, and her eyes landed on your lips. Her confession hung heavy in the air between you both.

Feeling a rush of boldness, you couldn't hold back any longer. You grabbed her by her shirt, slowly pulling her closer, and in a moment of sheer impulsiveness, you pressed your lips firmly against hers.

Your kiss deepened, the pressure between your lips gradually intensifying, the sensation giving you goosebumps. Hazel's lips were plush and inviting, just like you remembered. Her lips left yours for a moment before attaching themselves to your jaw, then your neck, sucking gently.

“Shit, Hazel.” You sighed and your back arched against the wall, already breathless.

Her hand on your waist pulled you closer, the touch gentle yet possessive. Your fingers instinctively wound into her hair, the strands soft and silky beneath your touch.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing this since that night,” She says between kisses to your neck. “Want you so bad,” she whines.

Her lips found yours again, the kiss hot and passionate, fueled by the emotions that had been building between you. There was an urgency to the way your lips moved together, and you felt a soft sigh escape Hazel's lips. Your bodies pressed against each other, every inch of skin on fire from the contact.

What you didn’t notice was your ex-boyfriend's roommate, Tyler, emerged out of the dorm building's entrance. He recognized you after a minute and stared at the scene in front of him in complete shock, jaw slack. He pulled out his phone, capturing the moment with a camera click. Lost in the intensity of your kiss, neither of you had noticed him. He snickered at his discovery, feeling proud of this piece of information he was now sitting on.

In the days that followed, you and Hazel became inseparable, caught up in the intoxication of a budding romance and newfound feelings. Mundane moments were made ten times better just by her presence. You’d been in relationships before, but not like this.

Taking walks hand in hand, you found the quiet corners of your college town, finding comfort in how easy it was to be around each other.

Movie marathons turned into shared glances and stolen kisses, the screen flickering in the background as you explored this new person. Your connection was so intense, it often escalated into heavy makeout sessions in Hazel's dorm, losing yourselves in the heat of the moment.

You were lying in bed, your head resting on Hazel's chest while her arm encircled you. The soft glow from Hazel's laptop illuminated the room, displaying a scene where two characters were kissing in a pool.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you said.

Hazel's hand gently rubbed your shoulder. “Do what, hm?”

“Make out in a pool. It just seems so… liberating.” You shifted in her arms to gaze up at her.

“How is making out while standing in a body of water any different than doing it on land?” She laughed, looking down at you.

“You'll find out when we do it one day,” you said with a smirk. “It’s gonna blow your mind.”

“I don’t know, I think our kisses are already pretty mind-blowing. But I’ll hold you to it,” she replied, her eyes fixed on your lips.

Just then, your phone rang, and it was a call from Isabel. You answered it, still comfortably lazing on Hazel as she absentmindedly stroked your hair.

“Hey Isabel, what's up?”

“I just wanted to check on you and see how you're doing…”

“I’m fine, I’m just at Hazel’s, I’ll be back soon though.”

“Have you seen the photo? Of you and Hazel?” She blurts out.

You sit up, your heart beating frantically as you press the phone closer to your ear. Hazel looks at you, her expression shifting from contentment to concern, sensing the change in your demeanor.

"What photo, Isabel?" you ask, your voice tight with worry.

"It's on Instagram," Isabel replies, her tone heavy with concern. "Someone posted a picture of you and Hazel, and the comments… they're awful. Homophobic slurs, slut-shaming… I thought you should know."

A lump forms in your throat, and you glance at Hazel, who grips your hand reassuringly, silently offering her support. "I haven't seen it," you admit, your voice shaky. "But thanks for letting me know."

"I reported the comments, but I don't know how long it'll take for them to be taken down," Isabel continues, her voice filled with empathy. "I'm here for you, okay? Don't let those ignorant people get to you." You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

"Thanks, Isabel," you say, your voice quivering. "I appreciate your support. I'll talk to you later, okay?”

"Of course," Isabel replies, her voice softening. "I’ll see you later tonight.”

With trembling hands, you grabbed your phone to see it for yourself.

There it was - the innocent moment captured in a snapshot, now tainted by the cruelty of strangers. As you scrolled through the comments, your heart pounded in your chest, each hateful word striking like a physical blow.

The pain intensified with every comment, echoing the doubts that had been gnawing at the corners of your mind. Hazel peered over your shoulder, her expression a mix of anger and concern.

"Ignore them," she urged, her voice soft yet determined. "They don't know us”

But the words had already burrowed deep within you, festering like a poison. A sense of overwhelming shame washed over you, overpowering Hazel's words. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in, and in a desperate attempt to escape, you grabbed your jacket and phone, your hands trembling as you stuffed it into your pocket.

"I can't stay here," you muttered, your voice strained, your eyes avoiding Hazel's gaze. "I need to get away from all of this."

Hazel reached out, her fingers brushing against your arm, her eyes pleading. "Please, don't run out like this," she implored, her voice cracking with emotion.

"I can't stay here," you repeated, your voice cracking as you met Hazel's gaze, filled with self-doubt. "We shouldn't see each other anymore." The words hung heavily between you, an unbearable admission of defeat. You turned away, unable to face the look in Hazel's eyes, and made your way to the door.

"Wait," Hazel pleaded, her voice raw with emotion, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

The door creaked shut behind you, sealing off the warmth and safety of the room you had shared with Hazel. Tears blurred your vision as you hurried down the dimly lit corridor, the echoes of your footsteps a haunting reminder of the distance growing between you and her.

It had been a month since you left Hazel in her dorm room. A miserable month to say the least. You felt so guilty for hurting her, but were also dealing with the hurt you felt from your privacy being so rudely invaded. Not to mention the straight-up awful comments you both received. But tonight, you were at a party you had reluctantly agreed to go to. Isabel and her girlfriend Josie convinced you that you needed to get out of your head and let loose.

Flamingo pink and aquamarine neon lights cast an ambiance on the frat house walls. The floor was sticky and the speakers were playing a rap song you didn’t know.

“Dude, we’re so young, you have your whole life ahead of you to fall in love and date hot people,” Isabel said, raising her glass to you. “Like, being this young is art. Cheers to that.” Isabel clinks her shot glass to yours. You tip your head back and shoot the tequila, burning your throat as it goes down. You needed any excuse to take a shot right now.

"I’m just going to go get us some more drinks and find Josie, okay?" Isabel gives you a reassuring look, and you nod before she disappears toward the bar. You do your best to make it look like you’re busy without your friend there, opening your phone, turning your brightness down, and scrolling through the calendar and weather app hoping no one can see over your shoulder.

“Well would you look who it is” You hear a familiar, sinister voice come from behind you. Great, it's your ex-boyfriend. Quite literally the last person on planet Earth you want to be standing face to face with right now.

“What could you possibly want right now, Josh.” You say deadpan, genuinely annoyed to be in his presence.

You and Josh had dated for four months. It was your typical college relationship, but there was always something missing, and you couldn't quite figure out what it was. He wanted sex, but you never felt quite ready to do it yet, at least not with him. Four months with no sex for a typical frat guy like Josh was absolute torture for him, so he went looking elsewhere. You ended it when you found him in bed with a brunette from the nursing program.

You can smell his mint gum as he cockily chews it and leans closer to you. “You come here to make out with more dykes, huh? You know, I always thought you were a prude, considering you never gave it up. Turns out your just a horny freak for pussy.”

His words sting. Hot tears brim at the bottom of your lash line. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, but you’ve never been good at standing up for yourself in these situations.

“Fucking slut.” He spits, even closer to your face than he was a moment ago. He has you cornered against the wall now, your blood boiling with rage and your head spinning with shame.

In the dim light, you see a hand adorned with silver rings firmly grip onto his shoulder. Before he could react, he was yanked backward by the other figure, a swift and forceful movement that left him disoriented. The punch landed sharply, the impact reverberating through his body.

Hazel.

Her eyes met his for a moment, before she turned toward you, leaving him shocked.

Holy shit.

You stare at Hazel, stunned, your gazes locked. Bright, red blood pours from your ex-boyfriend's nose.

“What the fuck?” His hands fly up to his face. “Is this your little girlfriend?” He laughs humourlessly, pointing to Hazel. “Real fucking cute. Yeah, you’re dead’ He says as he launches toward her, only to be pulled back by another group of arms, Isabel and Josie.

“Guys! Go! We’ll take care of him”

Hazel wastes no time and grabs your hand, her fingers entwining with yours in a reassuring grip. You run alongside her, the thumping music fading as you descend the stairs and navigate the chaotic kitchen of the large frat house. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation fueling your steps.

You don’t know if it's the slight buzz from earlier or the intoxicating lovesickness for the girl in front of you that continues to propel your feet forward, but you decide to just go with it. Hazel leads you through the crowd, weaving in between sweaty bodies and flashing lights.

As you step into the backyard, the cool night air hits your skin, and the scene before you unfolds like something out of a movie. A huge moonlit swimming pool stretches out, its surface rippling with the movements of people swimming in their underwear, their laughter and splashes filling the air. Realization strikes you, and you know exactly what Hazel is about to do.

With an impish grin, she turns to you, "Ready?" she asks, her voice drowned out by the music but clear in your ears. She hovers her mouth to the shell of your ear. “Just trust me, please” she whispers.

You nod, feeling a surge of adrenaline, and without another word, Hazel tugs you toward the edge of the pool.

With a shared glance, you leap into the water together, the cool embrace of the pool enveloping you. As you resurface, you find Hazel's eyes, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the pool. She looks so perfect like this, you almost forgot how stupidly into her you were.

“You look really pretty” She finally says.

“Hazel, I’m so sorry. That was so fucked up leaving you in your room like that.”

“I tried to call you,” she says, her voice tinged with disappointment.

“I know, I was too much of a coward to face you, I always bury everything that makes me uncomfortable and avoid it forever. It's unfair, you need someone who can confront those issues head-on, right away.”

“What if all I need is you?” she murmurs, her words hanging in the air, heavy with vulnerability and hope.

“Hazel…”

Your heart swells at her comment, you wanted nothing more than to hear those words come from her mouth, but your guilt makes you hesitant.

She reaches out for your hand, pulling you closer through the water, her touch reassuring. Her hands gently encircle your waist, you instinctively raise yours to rest around her neck. It feels like magnets snapping back into place,

"I don’t want to hide anymore. I don't want to be the one who runs away from difficult conversations. I want to be the one who faces challenges with you, who stands by your side no matter what." you say.

Her eyes soften, and she gives you a small smile, her grip on your back tightening. "I believe you," she says. Her voice is filled with trust.

"I mean it, Hazel," you continue, your voice steady.

She lifts your legs in both of her hands, effortlessly supporting you as you wrap them around her body beneath the water. The sensation is intimate, a silent declaration of trust and connection. Suspended in the water, your eyes meet hers, and in that moment, there's a shared understanding that goes beyond words.

Your foreheads meet each other, resting gently against one another, and your breathing hitches in anticipation as Hazel speaks. “So, are we still on for that mind blowing pool kiss?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at her lips.

A mischievous smile curves your lips in response. "Well, if they’re gonna call me a slut," you say, your voice low and sultry, "it might as well be worth it for once. I say we give them a show."

With unspoken agreement, you close the distance between your lips, capturing Hazel's mouth in a heated, passionate kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that exists is the electricity between you, the taste of her lips, and the water around your bodies.

You feel hopeful for the future, for where this could go. For where your heart might lead you. As you both pull away, breathless and smiling, you exchange a knowing glance, understanding that something has shifted between you, and you were exactly where you were meant to be.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

a/n: thanks so much for reading !! this is my second fic ever so again pls forgive me if there are any mistakes. I definitely want to write more for hazel though so I am so open to requests if you ever want to send one <3333

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan x reader #hazel bottoms #bottoms 2023 #ruby cruz #hazel callahan fanfic #sapphic #wlw #hazel callahan imagine #Spotify

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littlerequiem · 2 years ago

Text

— with you, at the end of all things ˚⁎⁺ levi ackerman x gn!reader

You and the Captain stare at the ghosts of the Survey Corps at Fort Saltra and exchange final goodbyes. You are glad to be with him, at the end of all things. Crossposted on AO3.

CONTENT — AOT spoilers, angst with a happy ending, grief and death, slight canon divergence bc i'm expanding on the scene with the Scouts (wc: 1.4k)

The day titans disappeared from Humanity’s existence, you remember white chrysanthemums blooming across endless fields of green.

It was an odd sight, you thought, following the fight that had ensued. Here you were in Fort Salta, surrounded by charred corpses, hellish landscapes, and dry, barren land. How could such a bright oasis manifest itself among all this chaos, when so much sadness had happened?

But despite this, as the white steam clung upwards in spirals of lavender haze and the faces of the Survey Corps materialized before you, the change was there. There stood the faces of your comrades—shimmering white in the steam—and fields of flowers behind them.

And you remember thinking that maybe, maybe, the flowers had appeared to symbolize all those who perished. Not just the Survey Corps, but all those people who had died needlessly everywhere. Entire civilizations… gone in the wisp of a day.

And so you stared. You stared at the faces of the soldiers who had stood next to you through everything.

The Survey Corps—your family.

It is your first Commander who breaks the silence.

“The both of you, thank you. Thank you for dedicating your hearts to the Survey Corps.” Erwin’s voice is as you last remember—a deep baritone that reminds you of forests, freedom, and dreams. It seeps into your skin like rain fills the soil.

He turns towards the rest, the outline of his skull shimmering.

And the rest of the Scout Regiment comes into view.

With a ragged breath, you slump down next to Levi, inhaling the dry air of gunpowder.

Your eyes burn as you watch all the faces of the soldiers you never quite had enough time to grieve, never knew how to make proud:

Erwin and his knowing expression, eyes warm with pride and gratitude.

Hange and their contagious smile, a sight you had not seen since they became a Commander—you didn’t realize how much you’d missed it until now.

Miche, Nanaba, Moblit—the people you considered to be like brothers and sisters.

Levi’s squad, both old and new.

Furlan and Isabel.

All of them, blurring into view before you, blending between clouds of smoke and destruction.

You want to say something to them, but words fail you.

I’m sorry you all died so soon. I wish I could have saved you. I wish it were all of you, not me, who stood alive now.

But what good will those words do now? They are dead and you are not.

“Thank you for everything,” is what you settle on.

And you aren't alone to feel the weight of their presence.

“Hey guys…” Levi croaks. "You see that? This is what you dedicated your heart to."

Levi’s voice is chokehold with emotions. It may be the single most earth-shattering sound you’ve ever heard.

You turn towards him, watching the way the bandages on his face are soaked in dirt and blood, the way tendrils of black hair cling to his damp forehead. There's fresh scabs that shine like pearls.

It makes your stomach coil, seeing the extent of Levi's suffering.

No, you think, this isn't the full scope of Levi's pain, only the physical proof of it. Levi's suffering started long before today; his life has been marked with grief and pain.

But he’s alive. He’s here with you.

“You’re alright,” you tell him. “You’ll be all right.”

You and Levi are now the last veterans still alive, the last survivor of the friendships forged when all that mattered was reclaiming the Walls for those living inside.

Your shoulders brushes against his, and you want to burst into tears—realizing that him being undoubtedly here means that he isn’t just a specter like everyone else you have loved. That he is here, which means that he is alive, which means you two have each other still.

Levi, I am glad to be with you. Here at the end of all things, you think to yourself, lips trembling.

As if feeling that unwavering bond, Levi’s eye flit towards you—shallows of sapphire and silver gleaming like water. You realize his stare is red rimmed like yours. He slowly raises his uninjured hand towards you, patting your hair tenderly in the way he always did.

Then, he raises a fist over his heart and looks ahead towards the Survey Corps.

You turn back towards them.

Dedicate your hearts.

How many times had you heard Erwin repeat this sentence, how many times had you whispered those words like a gospel, hoping to find some truth at the end of this journey?

“We’re proud of you. So proud of you both,” Erwin says with a wistful smile.

“What will we do now?” you ask, a sob crackling out of you.

Hange shoots you a knowing look. “Continue to explore the world like a Scout, of course!”

“Live your life the way you always dreamed to,” Moblit adds.

“Treat yourself to some goddamn rest,” Miche says.

"And take care of him for us, will you?" Furlan asks, nodding towards Levi. Isabel grins.

“Shit,” you mutter, screwing your eyes shut.

And then, you mirror Levi’s gesture, smacking your bruised fist on your heart.

This is the last time, you think, feeling thick tears glide down your cheeks, blurring your vision. This is goodbye.

And indeed, the ghosts of your friends now bow their heads as they place their salutes over their hearts, thanking you for all that you have done. You study each of them, trying to burn every detail of them in your memory.

Thank you all. We’ll see you again, you think through labored breaths.

Next to you, Levi dips his head down, a ghost of smile on his lips.

And as the steam dissipates and the valleys of Fort Salta come peering through, reality settles in.

For the first time in your life, you don’t know what tomorrow will look like.

Where do you go from here?

You don't think the life of a soldier is what awaits either of you. There’s Levi, who’s wounded all over. He was Humanity’s Strongest all this time, but now, he can no longer be that man. It would be unfair to expect him to remain that.

So maybe after all of that, what Levi really deserves is peace. For someone to look after him the way he looked after Humanity for so long.

“Tell me,” you say, a sort of childish wonder settling across your face as you look up to the sky, fixing the clouds over the horizon where sandy valleys and endless blue meet together, “what do you suppose we do now?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. You glance at him, scared that maybe he sustained an injury after all, and that he’s slowly dying next to you.

But you find that Levi is still there, staring at you with a silvery eye that makes you feel seen.

“I don’t know,” Levi’s answer is rough and tangled with uncertainty, an expression marred with dark shadows. There’s a line of clean skin where a tear paved its way across his dusty cheek. You want to cradle his face between your palms, to cleanse him of the remains of this battle.

Instead, you gently take Levi’s hand between your own, not knowing if after all the injuries he sustained, if he can even feel the pressure of your heated touch. But Levi squeezes your fingers, and you hold back a choke. Alive, he's alive.

“I think… I think now, we must explore this new world,” you murmur. “Now, we must learn to live.”

"Learn to live, huh?" he says softly.

You smile.

The two of you hold on to each other like that for a long time. It is Onyankopon who later finds you watching the scenery, gazing at where the Survey Corps last stood in a field of white flowers and endless green.

Now, pink and violet sunlight overshadow everything else, the start of a new dawn breathing life into this valley of the dead.

And perhaps, just perhaps, it is enough for now.

A tribute to Levi because he's everything to me. This piece was inspired by Lord of the Rings:

"I'm glad to be with you Samwise Gamgee... Here at the end of all things." - Tolkien

— Masterlist

#levi fanfiction #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot levi #levi x oc #howl's moving castle #levi x you #levi x y/n #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #captain levi #ao3 fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #aot #flo's oneshots #aot spoilers #flo is writing . . .

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missmaniac25 · 1 month ago

Text

Park Seonghwa - Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

Model!Seonghwa x assistant!reader (gender neutral) W.C: 13k Warnings: Seonghwa is little rude in the beginning, feelings of inadequacy/being overlooked, angst (with a fluff ending) A/n: hope you enjoy it! please let me know if I missed any warnings, or if you find spelling errors (not proofread) - thank you!

~~~~

“This is your five-minute call!”

The voice is almost lost within the cacophony of noise that permeates the dressing rooms and backstage. Make-up artists hurry to do last minute touch ups. Models check and double check their looks in the mirror. The crew are bustling through it all, making sure everyone is ready and that everything is running smoothly. And in the midst of all this chaos:

You.

Although you’ve been backstage for many a runway show, your nerves never seem to get any less, despite the fact that you never step foot into the spotlight. Your job was to be invisible but available. To learn through experience. To ensure smooth running so that your boss could claim all the glory.

You watched as Isabel fussed over one of the models. He was the perfect model and a hard worker; every interaction you’d ever had with him was strictly business and he never joked around when you spoke to him. His eyes were set dead ahead as final adjustments were made to his outfit. Park Seonghwa was her favourite model and everyone on the team knew it, so much so that everyone referred to him by the pet-name that Isabel used for him.

‘The Star.’

“One minute!”

The chaos suddenly dissipates and a quiet falls over everyone. Isabel gives her star one last word of encouragement to which he cracks the smallest of smiles before he turns stoic again. You watch as the lights change and a voice over the speakers welcomes everyone to the event. Music starts and the first model steps out on the runway.

You step far out of the way, out of trouble, and wait. Each model walks past you before they exit backstage. When Seonghwa stops in front of you, you can’t help but take in all the details of his outfit – the trim on the edge of the jacket, the cut of his trousers, the subtle but effective make-up that’s been applied to his naturally handsome face. He is the epitome of a good model.

He doesn’t look at you before he steps out into the light and in front of the crowd. It doesn’t bother you though; you’re meant to be invisible. Afterall, that is the role of the designer’s assistant.

Isabel’s studio is clean and organised. Design sketches are pinned up on a corkboard, fabric stacked neatly on shelves right next to it. Mannequins with half-finished pieces stand against a wall, waiting. The door to Isabel’s office stays shut most days but you’ve been on the other side more times than you can count. Today is no exception.

You knock on the wood, balancing files and fabric swatches, as well as two cups of coffee, before you hear the go-ahead to enter. You can hear Isabel’s voice as you push the door open, her phone pressed against her ear.

“Yes, yes. Ok, I’ll see you soon my star, bye-bye.” She hangs up the call, watching you as you place all your items on the desk. “You’re two minutes late.”

“I apologise. The café was busier than normal today,” you explain before taking a seat.

“Still haven’t managed to convince that beautiful barista to pursue modelling?”

“I bring it up every time I go there,” you say, handing her one of the to-go cups. “He just laughs at me now.”

You were very fortunate to have received a job with Isabel – although she was firm and exceedingly professional, she still seemed to have a heart, which many other designers you’d encountered did not. You did not take that fact for granted. When Isabel says jump, you say how high.

For a short while, you and her discuss upcoming projects, appointments and meetings. She knows exactly what she wants and you assure her that you’ll get it. It’s only when your coffee cup is empty that you hear another knock on the door, and Isabel tells them to come in as a smile appears on her face.

Seonghwa walks in with an air about him that to anyone who didn’t know better would suggest he was the true owner of this building and this room.

“My star, come sit, would you like something to drink?” Isabel gestures to the chair next to you and the model makes himself comfortable.

“No thank you, Isabel, I’ll be alright.”

You shift to sit up a little straighter in your seat, noticing how his posture never relaxes. If Isabel was the queen that you waited on hand and foot, then this was the prince – your treatment of him always affected how the queen would see you.

“Have you thought about my offer, my star?” She continues, her full attention on Seonghwa.

“I have,” he answers, sounding sure of himself. “I would like to go, if you’ll let me.”

You hold your tongue, despite how a wave of confusion washed over you with every word they were speaking. Instead, you opt to look busy, flipping through a folder full of the designs that would be on show next month. You keep your ears open to their conversation though.

“Oh wonderful, I’ll let Hanna know immediately.” The designer beams. “And have you thought about who you’d like to go with you?”

It’s only in your peripheral vision that you see Seonghwa turn his head to you ever so slightly. Still, you keep quiet.

“If they're good enough for you, then they're good enough for me,” he tells Isabel.

You still have no idea what they’re on about but you keep your thoughts to yourself, listening to Isabel tell her star that she would organise everything and to not worry, he was in good hands.

Whether those were your hands or this Hanna person’s you weren’t sure yet. You supposed that you would find out.

“We still have half an hour before we need to check in.”

“I told you that we didn’t need to be here so early.”

“Don’t.”

Reluctantly you weave your way through the other travellers, your tail close behind you. You grasp yours and Seonghwa’s travel documents tightly in your one hand, suitcase in the other. It was too early in the morning for this – you needed something to wake you up.

“I still have no idea how you managed to convince Isabel to let me come with you on this trip. Her star model and her assistant both away at the same time is wild.”

Seonghwa snickers a little from behind you.

“That’s my privilege.”

A part of you wants to be annoyed at his attitude but in reality, you don't have the capacity to say or do anything about it. Instead, you lead him into one of the airport restaurants and sit down at a table with a huff. As always, Seonghwa looks super composed as he sits opposite you – his back is straight and he holds his head up as if a camera could take his photograph at a moment’s notice.

This was undoubtedly the most time you’d spent with him outside of work and it was only going to get longer from here on out. There was very little you knew about him – other than his name and occupation, Seonghwa was a stranger to you. It wouldn’t hurt to learn a little more.

“Are you looking forward to working with Hanna?” You ask, eyes scanning the menu as you do.

“Yes,” Seonghwa answers, mirroring your actions. “Isabel said that she has a good team and that I’ll fit right in there.”

“And her concepts and designs?”

He pauses a moment, wetting his lips before he speaks again.

“They look interesting. Not like Isabel’s at all.”

“Nothing will ever be like Isabel’s,” you say and he nods in agreement.

The conversation falls quiet. You don’t know what more to say now and he seems uninterested in asking you how you’re feeling about the whole ordeal.

It still unnerved you a little that your boss was willing to loan her prized model to a sister fashion studio, out of town. Not only that but to send you along with him to make sure that he was treated well and that he got to where he needed to go? There was more pressure on you than you cared to admit and never would, especially not to Seonghwa. He had the world in the palm of his hand; you were hanging on by the skin of your teeth.

Maybe it was better that he didn’t ask about how you were feeling. You resigned yourself to being invisible once more, your focus solely on the menu in your hands. The sooner this started, the sooner it would be over and you could just chalk the whole thing up to job experience and nothing more.

No getting close with the model, no sight-seeing, nothing that could distract you. This trip was about work and only work – you’d make sure of it.

It’s quiet, baring the dull hum of the engines and the occasional rustle of passengers as they shift in their sleep, trying to make the most of the plane’s amenities. A flight attendant slowly makes her way down the aisle, stopping every now and then to whisper something to whoever she finds still awake.

You keep your eyes locked on your sketch book, using the dull overhead lamp to light the page. It was just a rough design so you weren’t too worried about how it looked now – you could do touch ups when you eventually got to your accommodation. For now, it was just important to get the ideas onto the page.

“That doesn’t look half bad.”

Your gaze shoots the side, finding Seonghwa leaning forward in his seat with his eye-mask half on and half off.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was,” he admits, yawning as if to prove his point. “You woke me up.”

You and he stare each other down.

“How?” You utter the single word in disbelief.

Seonghwa casually points up, the movement casting shadows over your small shared space.

“You can’t be serious…”

“I am. I need my beauty sleep in order to look good when we meet Hanna tomorrow. Your light is bothering me.”

The grip you have on your pencil tightens.

“Fine.” You pack your items away and switch off the light. “You win. Enjoy your beauty sleep.”

With one last huff you sit in your chair, bracing yourself for a long and boring rest of your flight. Seonghwa on the other hand, pulls his eye-mask down properly and snuggles back under his blanket, completely unaware of how his choice now, will impact him later.

“Can you please slow down?”

“No, hurry up.”

You knew that you were being short with him, yet you had no intention of fixing it. If he decided to tattle on you to Isabel, you’d defend yourself for once and you were ninety percent certain that she would take your side on this.

The poor hotel receptionist didn’t know what hit him as you stalked up to the front desk with almost murderous intent in your eyes.

“We’re checking in. Booking under Isabel Silvain. Should be two rooms for ten days.”

Seonghwa finally manages to catch up to you as the receptionist hastily clicks away on his computer. For every second that you stand, you can feel more and more energy drain out of your body. A plush bed is calling your name, you can hear it, if only you could just…

“I’m sorry but it seems that you’ve booked one room with two beds. Not two separate rooms.”

It feels as if the blood in your veins stops moving. This cannot be happening now. You were the one who booked the rooms, there’s no way that you would’ve made a mistake like that. You’re about to open your mouth to say something but Seonghwa cuts you off.

“That’s ok, thank you. May we have our room key?”

The slow turn of your head to stare him down should’ve been accompanied by the shrill strings of a horror movie soundtrack. Whether he doesn’t see you, or he’s deliberately ignoring you, you don’t know, as the model takes the room key and starts walking behind the bell boy who has taken your luggage from you.

You have no option but to join the end of the line and go along.

Once the door to your room closes, you toss your bags aside and collapse on the bed that you’ve claimed as your own.

“There’s still plenty of time before we have to meet with Hanna,” you tell him, voice half muffled by the pillow that’s under your head. “Do what you want but don’t get lost and don’t be late. I’m having a nap.”

“We had a whole plane ride to sleep…”

“No, you had a whole plane ride to sleep!” You sit up again and look at Seonghwa. “Some of us can’t sleep on planes!”

His brows furrow and he seems to be really taking in your appearance now.

“You don’t sleep on planes?”

“No, I don’t,” you inform him. “And because you needed your ‘beauty sleep’, I couldn’t do the one thing that helps me to pass the time and make my flights a little less tedious. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Seonghwa shifts on his feet, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“I… I didn’t realise.”

You turn away from him and lie back down on the bed.

“Whatever, Seonghwa. Just let me sleep.”

You hear him sigh before saying something about taking the room key, and then the soft click of the door closing. Finally, alone and on solid ground, you close your eyes and allow yourself to slumber.

The alarm goes off at the same that Seonghwa walks back inside of the room. Your brain is still groggy as you sit up on your bed, taking a second to remember that you’re not at home and are in fact working. That’s also why when Seonghwa places something on your bedside table, it takes much longer than normal for you to realise what it is:

A to-go cup from a local café.

“What’s this for?” You ask, picking it up and taking a sip. “And how do you know my order?”

At first you don’t think that he’s going to answer you as he turns towards his suitcase and starts to pull out a couple of neatly pressed items.

“It’s an apology coffee,” he states as if it should’ve been obvious. “And I know your order because I paid attention at the airport.”

You can’t deny that the drink tastes good, and you don’t want the entirety of this trip to be done walking on eggshells.

“Thanks. You’re forgiven.”

It almost sounds like he laughs as he puts his clothes into his carry-on bag. Reluctantly, you stand up, pull on your shoes, and grab the rest of your items.

“Alright, Mr Star-of-the-Show, let’s make a good first impression on these people.”

The following days when you return to Lugar de la Rosa you get greeted by Hanna and the rest of her staff as if you were long lost friends. It’s easy to see how this designer and Isabel would be good friends – their work ethic is the same although their styles differ quite a bit. You’re used to sleek designs with hidden details, tighter fits and more natural lines. Hanna is more eccentric. Her clothes are big with bold colours – every single article is a statement piece.

It’s a little unusual to see Seonghwa in her pieces, regardless of how well he wears them. Despite being in a completely unfamiliar place and working with unfamiliar people, he behaves completely as ease while still being professional. He seems to be making himself a firm favourite in Hanna’s books as well, as you watch how she dotes on him as soon as he steps foot inside the building.

You, on the other hand, remain as ghost-like as possible. There really isn’t a reason for you to keep coming with Seonghwa to these fittings and meetings, other than the fact that he keeps asking you to. It would be just as easy to drop him off, spend some time doing your own thing, and returning to pick him up when the day was done. Yes, you had promised Isabel that you would look after her Star, but every day it felt more and more as though your presence was completely unnecessary.

A lowly bench and table that had been tucked away into the corner of one of the rooms had become your little hideaway. Unless Seonghwa or Hanna specifically called you, that was where you could be found, and today was no exception. The sun shone in through the window next to you as finally you were able to close your laptop, having replied to more emails than you thought it was possible to send, and organised Isabel’s life for the next week minimum. The studio was fairly busy today – far more people had come today for fittings than previous but you hadn’t even noticed them until now. Among the sea of faces you can see your temporary roommate, talking to the other models, making connections. He’d been surprisingly easy to live with, baring how long he seemed to take in the shower but that could be forgiven due to how tidy he was and how he’d not forced you to go to sleep at the same time as him, clearly having learnt his lesson after the flight.

Seonghwa catches your eye, gracefully moving through the maze of people to get to you. You worry that something has happened.

“Everything alright?”

“I was actually coming to ask that question to you.”

He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it.

“I see you packed away your laptop,” he points out. “Done for today?”

“For now. My work is never really done.”

Seonghwa nods, even though he doesn’t hundred percent know the truth in your words.

“So, what are you going to do while you wait for me?”

With a shrug you look around the room. There’s plenty of inspiration around you – Hanna’s walls are full of photos of models wearing past designs.

“I might do some sketching,” you admit, letting your eyes drift back to him. “While I have some time to spare.”

He seems to mull something over in his mind, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip before his speaks.

“Would you design something for me?”

There’s a tingle down your spine but you’re unsure if it’s from excitement or nerves. Maybe some strange combination of both.

“Design something?”

“Yes,” he says, looking pleased with himself. “Like something I could wear on the runway. But your style. Just for fun.”

You reason that there’s no harm in trying; it would be a fun experiment to test your skills.

“Any criteria?” You ask, pulling out your sketchbook and pencil.

Your model just smiles wider.

“No, you have free reign.”

“You may regret that,” you chirp as he turns to walk away.

“I doubt it.”

And with his final remark, you get to work once more.

It’s two hours later when you and Seonghwa walk onto the street. They’d worked straight through lunch, and you having been so lost in your sketching, hadn’t even noticed. It was painfully obvious now though as your stomach growled rather loudly, and you looked down the pavement to see if there was somewhere nearby that you could stop at briefly to pick up some food.

“I’m famished too.”

Seonghwa’s voice jolts you – he hadn’t said a word to you since he finished for the day.

“Maybe we could just walk and see what we find?” He suggests, and considering that you don’t have a better plan, you agree.

You find it peaceful to stroll side by side with him – no pressures, no expectations. Just two people, existing with each other.

“How did your design turn out?”

“I think it looks good,” you tell him, eyeing the buildings in front of you but none of them are serving food. “I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that though, considering you’re the model.”

He laughs a little.

“I didn’t know models got such a say in the designs.”

“Well in my world they do,” you laugh as well. “I’ll show you when we get back to the hotel.”

Seonghwa nods his head, keeping his gaze forward.

“Would you ever put a piece on the runway, if Isabel let you?”

“It’s not that simple,” you confess.

The terrace of a café appears in front of you and you motion for Seonghwa to go in; he happily obliges, getting a table for the two of you near the window.

“I’m sure I could put in a good word for you,” he says, half teasing and half serious.

“If you did that, I’d source something else really amazing for you to wear.”

There’s a glimmer of mischief in his eye that you don’t fail to notice.

“Should we make that a deal? There’s this jewellery brand that I really love and I’ve always wanted to walk with one of their items.”

You watch him from across the table – still so put together even after a full day’s work. Not a hair out of place. Not even breaking a sweat. There’s nothing to lose by saying yes; it probably won’t happen anyways…

“Deal.” You hold your hand out to the model and he shakes it; his grip is firm.

“Deal,” he parrots before looking at his menu. “Also, we need to find a hairdresser who can take me tomorrow.”

You question him as to why, knowing how much your boss loves Seonghwa’s luscious hair.

“Hanna wants me to change up the style. Nix on breaking the news to Isabel.”

You’re left with your mouth agape at the pure audacity. You genuinely thought that you were having a decent moment with him – only for him to ruin it.

“You’re so lucky Isabel loves you…”

“Otherwise, what?”

“Otherwise, I would let you suffer.”

Seonghwa just laughs again, face lighting up with a smile and even though it surprises you, you can’t help but do the same.

“I honest-to-goodness wonder what Isabel’s going to say about this.”

Although it had taken up most of your afternoon the day before, you had managed to find a reputable hair salon with a free slot for Seonghwa, who now sat in the salon chair with strands of wet hair sticking to his face.

“You haven’t told her yet?”

“I figured that I’d rather beg forgiveness than ask permission on this one.”

He smiles as the stylist starts to comb his hair, separating it the various sections and clipping them out of the way.

“Don’t worry too much about it; I’ll be able to get away with it.”

You let out a sigh.

“That must be nice, Mr Star of the runway.”

“You say that as if you couldn’t get away with murder too.”

The soft snip snip snip of scissors catches your attention and you watch as the off cuts fall to the tiled floor. You really were dreading breaking the news to Isabel later.

“It might look that way,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his in the mirror. “But I most certainly could not.”

Seonghwa scoffs at the notion, and the stylist asks him to please keep still. He apologies and does as he’s told. His voice is softer when he speaks again.

“Isabel has told me that she wouldn’t survive without you. She needs you far more than you realise – give yourself some credit for the work that you do.”

A lump forms in your throat and you can only manage a nod in his direction. You suppose that you do work hard for Isabel, although it would be nice for her to give you that recognition herself rather than hearing it through the grapevine.

“I owe her my whole career so far,” you suddenly confess, not even sure why you feel the need to share this with Seonghwa.

“Me too,” he admits. “She gave me my break. When I first started with her, I would do anything she told me to.”

“Oh, so that’s why she loves you so much: you’re a pushover.”

Your quip seems to lighten the mood again and you see the model smiling in the reflection.

“What I mean is, there’s always a lot of pressure for me to do well on her behalf; I always need to perform.”

“And you think that I don’t?” You query. “You may be on the physical runway but I’m on a figurative one. I could also stumble and fall flat on my face. You at least have a chance to get back up and keep walking immediately; I might not be so lucky.”

You’ve never admitted it out loud to anyone else before in your whole life and you wonder why you suddenly feel safe enough to bear your heart out to him now, here in the hair salon of all places.

The stylist continues to cut and you watch as Seonghwa transforms before your eyes.

On the way home from the studio that evening, you force Seonghwa to stop along the way so that you can capture his new look. You even manage to take a few photos where he doesn’t look like his normal put together model self; there’s one where he’s sticking out his tongue, one with his eyes crossed and even one where he’s reaching towards the camera in an attempt to take the phone away and take photos of you instead. He had had no such luck and for that you were grateful.

The nerves built up as you watched the little ticks on your phone change from grey to blue. She typed, stopped, typed. And then the phone rang.

“Hello, Isabel.”

It was that exact moment that Seonghwa came out of the bathroom, pyjama’s on and looking ready for bed. You hastily gestured for him to sit next to you so that you didn’t have to go through this alone.

“He cut his hair?”

Seonghwa recognises the voice despite not hearing the words.

“Hanna requested that he cut his hair for the runway. We… I didn’t want to argue with her.”

There’s a long and uncomfortable silence. The man next to you nimbly takes the phone out of your hand and presses it to his ear.

“Isabel! What do you think of my new hair? It’s nice, isn’t it?”

His lively tone completely contradicts the uneasy feeling in your stomach but it seems to do the trick. Or maybe it’s just him

“My Star! Yes, it looks wonderful! You have the face to pull off any style you wanted. I’m so glad you are being exposed to something different with Hanna.”

Seonghwa continues to talk to Isabel, telling her everything that he’s been doing and how the fittings have been going. Isabel continues to dote on him, telling him that she knew she made the right choice sending him.

You sit, waiting. You should be used to this, being in the background. The uneasy feeling hasn’t settled though, despite Seonghwa having eased Isabel’s mind. Maybe you did want to be noticed; maybe you did want Isabel to acknowledge you and treat you with the same kindness that she treated her Star with, especially if you were as important to her as Seonghwa claimed you to be.

“Thank you, Isabel. Yes, we’ll be back soon. Bye!”

The call ends and the model tries to hand your phone back to you but when you remain motionless, he looks at you and notices the vacancy in your eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly but when that doesn’t work, he places a hand on your shoulder.

You blink a few times, slowly turning your head to look at where he’s made contact with you.

“Are you ok?” There’s concern suspended in his eyes when you finally look at him properly. “You seem… far away.”

“I want you to model something that I’ve designed.” You say with certainty. “Like, I’ll design something specifically for you to walk on the runway, and I’ll stick to our deal. I’ll even design the clothing around whatever jewellery you wear. But I want you to do it.”

Seonghwa’s a little taken aback by the sudden change but he agrees nonetheless.

“I’ll ask Isabel about it then.”

“Yeah,” you say, finally taking your phone from him and standing up. “That would be great.”

It’s been fifteen minutes and they’re still fussing over him. One assistant is standing in front of him and the other behind, and neither of them can seem to agree on what the problem is. He goes on the runway tomorrow.

You’ve kept quiet, not wanting to step on anyone’s toes but it’s starting to physically pain you that they can’t figure out the issue when you can clearly see what needs to be done. With your one hand against your head rubbing at your temple, you’re sure you look as annoyed as you feel. Seonghwa makes eye contact with you and you hold back a smirk as you see him mouth ‘help me’.

“Sorry, do you mind if I butt in here?” You say, standing up and making your way to the model and the confused assistants. “Can you give me your pins, please?”

The assistant in front of Seonghwa reluctantly hands over their equipment as you kneel on the floor. You give your model a quick look, asking if it’s ok that you touch him and once he nods, you get to work.

“They just need to sit a little differently,” you half mutter to yourself, tucking the fabric over itself around his thighs and pinning it, doing your best to maintain the pants original silhouette. “He’s got long legs and you need to take the pants in a little bit in order to look normal, or like they would on a different model.”

When both sides have been done, you stand up and admire your handiwork. The assistants next to you both look Seonghwa up and done before they reluctantly agree that it does look better now than it did before. When you look up into Seonghwa’s eyes, eager to see what he thinks, you immediately notice how flushed he looks. You can’t recall a time that he’s been like that after a fitting – Seonghwa is calm, composed and professional at all times. But he looks a little giddy and you can’t place why.

He thanks you later that day by buying you dessert after your shared meal – never did a chocolate brownie taste so good.

As always when it comes to runway shows, you make yourself scarce backstage. There’s a lot of movement and noise, and because this isn’t your fashion house, you take extra care to not get in the way. Mostly, you hover by the dressing table where Seonghwa had had his make-up done: an extravagant look that you weren’t used to seeing on him. As always though, he was able to make it look extraordinary.

You see Hanna rush past, three people hot on her heels as they all take instruction from her. A part of you missed Isabel. A part of you was relieved to not have to worry right now.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

You look to where the voice came from at your side, to find the model next to you. Completely dressed, Seonghwa looks like the star Isabel always sees him as – the only thing out of place is the way his chest heaves up and down.

“Of course you can,” you say, moving to face him. “You’ve walked hundreds of runways before.”

“Not like this.” His eyes dart everywhere behind you. “Not like...”

“Hey.” Gingerly you reach out and take his hands in your own. Finally, he locks eyes with you. “You are a well-trained, well-seasoned model, with loads of experience. You are Isabel Silvain’s star model. She didn’t send just anybody here, she sent the best and the best is you, Seonghwa.”

Slowly but surely, the panic fades away and confidence takes its place. His breathing becomes even and he gives your hands a squeeze.

“I hope you know that what you said, about Isabel sending the best…” He pauses, making sure that you’re looking at him. “It applies to you too.”

Before you get the chance to even think of anything to say back, you hear one of the stage managers calling all the models and you know that it’s time to let go even though you don’t want to.

“I guess that’s me,” Seonghwa says.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Almost unwillingly he takes his hands out of yours and starts to walk away.

“Seonghwa!” You call out and he swiftly turns around. “You really are a star. You’ll be amazing.”

He smiles and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“Thank you.”

With one last look, he goes. You’re left to wait out the rest of the show by yourself, lost in thoughts of why you feel the way you do now.

Seonghwa flops face first onto his bed and you can’t help but laugh a little. It was already two in the morning – only just returning to the hotel after a small afterparty with some of the other models.

“What time do we have to be up tomorrow?” His voice is muffled by his pillow but you still manage to hear him.

“You don’t need to set an alarm,” you tell him as you gather your items for a well needed shower.

“Ok then, what time is our flight?”

You hold back a snicker at the fact that he doesn’t know.

“We’re not leaving tomorrow, Hwa.”

He turns his head, confusion mixing with exhaustion as he stares you down.

“What do you mean?”

You walk over to his bed and pat him on the back, half to tease him and half in sympathy.

“Isabel has given you two days extra to recover. You don’t have anything you need to do tomorrow or anywhere you need to go. And to be honest, I think you deserve it.”

He’s taking some time to process the news, so you make your way to the bathroom. You can hear him call out before you close the door.

“You deserve it too!”

Again, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest but you choose to ignore it this time.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve put up with you this whole time!”

Before he gets the chance to retort back, you shut the door.

By the time you’re finished in the bathroom, you come back to find Seonghwa already asleep. As gently as you can, you pull a blanket over him and in a moment of mild madness, you press a kiss to his head.

“Sleep tight, my Star.”

There’s the distant sound of something ringing but it’s faint. You roll over, pulling the blankets closer to your chin. There are the sounds of someone shuffling around the room however it’s still far away as you drift back towards dreamland. You never get to reach it though.

It starts as a gentle shake on your shoulder and the calling of your name. Trying your best to ignore it, you keep your eyes shut. The shaking gets more and the name calling gets louder. Still, you hold fast. It’s only when you feel the full weight of a certain someone’s body that you admit defeat and venture to open your eyes.

“What do you want?” You ask, voice groggy.

“We need to go.”

His voice is rather close to your ear and you can’t tell if you like it or not.

“Why? What happened?”

The weight is removed and he helps you to sit up in your bed.

“Because we’re going shopping!”

Seonghwa is far too chirpy for someone who worked so hard. With your arm linked through his, he practically drags you down the street to a predetermined destination – the name of which, you aren’t privy to. It had taken some convincing to get you out of your bed not even half an hour ago, however when you had looked into Seonghwa’s big, pleading eyes, you’d found yourself caving very quickly.

“Almost there!” He sings, smile growing bigger by the second.

There’s something about him that’s different today. Sure, he looks the same, he sounds the same, and he still holds himself with the same poise as always. It’s as though his aura has changed – he’s lighter, freer. It’s him when he’s not working, and until now you’ve just never seen it.

“Tada!” Seonghwa’s voice rings out from next to you, as he turns you to face the place he’s been dying to get to.

“A Lego shop,” you deadpan. “You dragged me out of bed, on my day off, to come to a Lego shop with you.”

“Not just any Lego shop!” He moves to stand in front of you, as if making eye contact with you might make you change your opinion on the ordeal. You don’t like the fact that it just might.

“It’s a special Lego shop,” Seonghwa tells you. “We’re going to make custom mini figure keychains!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you confess.

He takes your hand and leads you inside.

“Don’t worry, you’ll soon find out!”

You lose the battle of paying your half at the till, which makes the model even more smug as he takes you with him into the shop where tables filled with buckets of small, plastic bricks await. He talks the whole time about his collection of builds back at home and his favourite pieces. He mentions something about Star Wars Lego and you can’t help but think one word:

‘Nerd.’

“Ok, so we’re going to start with the legs,” Seonghwa says, making you to stand in front of one of the tables. “I think I’m going to do myself when I’m on the runway.”

“Should I do myself as well then?” You ask, cautiously scratching through the assortment of legs.

“Yes! That would be fun!” He says gleefully before backtracking. “I mean… only if you want to, though.”

With a shake of your head, you start your journey to recreate yourself in miniature form, which immediately puts Seonghwa in a good mood. Together, the two of you sort your way through the various options, giving your opinions on the other’s figure. The model is very decisive while you take your time and weigh up what would be best – that is until you come to the hair.

“I don’t know if I should do long hair or short hair.” Seonghwa sighs dramatically, holding the two choices in his hand. “You decide for me.”

“Jeepers, no pressure or anything!” You tease, watching as he stumbles over his words trying to make you feel better.

“No, you’re right, I’m sorry. I can choose, I just…”

“Hwa.”

The call of his name quietens him immediately; he looks up at you with those same big eyes as before. Curse your heart for skipping a beat.

“I’d pick the long hair.” You tell him. “It’s more what you’re known for and this look won’t last forever; it’s going to grow out soon enough.”

Seonghwa doesn’t even take a second to think about it before flicking the short hair back into the bucket from where it came, and placing the longer hair option on the yellow Lego head.

“You’re right, this looks like me.” He smiles at you. “Thank you.”

You try to play it off, just shrugging a shoulder before turning back to your own figure who remains bald.

“Well considering I picked your hair, I think it’s only fair that you get to pick mine.”

Your friend just about bounces up and down before diving into the pile.

“Oh, I know just the one for you!”

It’s not too long before both of you have your figures finished and attached to keychains. A souvenir from the trip – one that you know you’ll really cherish. Once outside the shop, Seonghwa insists that you take pictures to commemorate the occasion, and of course you oblige. There are selfies of the two of you, ones where he’s standing and you’re holding his keychain so it looks like they’re standing together and he does the same for you. There’s one cute one of just your hands holding the mini figures close to each other – this one soon becomes your phone wallpaper.

“Wait, I have an idea,” Seonghwa says as you walk back to the hotel. “But you can say no if you want to.”

“Well, I can’t say no until you tell me what it is,” you counter.

He deliberately ignores your comment and it makes you laugh a little.

“I was going to suggest that we swap keychains, but now I’m not so sure…”

“You want a mini me?” You query, not opposed to the idea but still confused.

“Yeah.” He confesses. “You really helped to calm me down last night. And it was really nice to go to a show with just us. I think that… you know what, never mind.”

“Hey!” You place yourself right in his path, holding out your hand. “Give me my mini model. I need someone to look at while I design your runway piece. Don’t forget that you promised me you’d ask Isabel.”

Seonghwa beams like the sun as he happily gives you his keychain and you place yours into the palm of his hand.

“Now we’ll remember this trip forever!” He announces.

You’re certain that you would’ve remembered this trip even without the souvenirs; this day with Seonghwa has made a permanent home in your heart.

As much as you enjoyed the time away, it is good to be home and in a familiar environment again. You realise that you even missed the smell of Isabel’s studio as you step inside, taking a deep breath before making your way to her office and knocking on the door. The sharp voice of your boss tells you to come inside and you quickly oblige.

“Good morning, Isabel!” You say, placing her coffee on her desk.

“Morning, we have lots to do for this week, so we must start immediately.”

You’re taken aback by the rashness of the way she’s speaking to but you’re not sure way you feel that way. Maybe you’d hoped that she would ask about your time at Lugar de la Rosa, even just as a curtesy, or enquire about how Seonghwa did during the show. That she would acknowledge that you were gone but despite that, that you still did everything you needed to do for her as well as take care of her Star. Any sort of recognition for anything that had happened in the past week and a half.

Instead, she starts to tell you about all the odd jobs that need doing, which companies you need to call. You sit down and take notes, returning once more to your role as her assistant.

The day continues with you suspended in this strange limbo – by all accounts, things should be normal but there’s still an air of uncertainty between you and Isabel that seems to wrap more tightly around you as the day goes on.

“Here are the photos from Seonghwa’s test run with Hanna,” you say, handing over the pictures that you’d just picked up from the printing company.

Isabel takes them from you, giving each of them a once over.

“I still can’t believe you let them cut my Star’s hair,” she says, stopping at one specific photo and scrutinizing it. “It’s going to take so long to grow out again.”

For the briefest of moments, your blood runs cold. You messed up. You were meant to look after him for Isabel but you let them…

‘Hold on, I didn’t let them do anything. It was by request of the designer,’ you think to yourself. ‘Did she expect me to fight Hanna on her choice for her model?’

Isabel doesn’t notice your inner crisis, continuing to go on about how if she’d known that it would happen, she would’ve sent another model instead and how next time you should check with her before you let them commit to such big changes.

For the rest of the day, you keep your head down and do only exactly what needs to be done; you don’t talk to Isabel unless it’s to answer a question. By the time you leave, you’re aching for someone to see you, to recognise your efforts.

You’re missing your friend.

You’re missing Seonghwa.

“Stop squirming!”

“Sorry.”

“You weren’t this wiggly with Hanna’s seamstresses, am I the problem?”

“No!”

In the chaos that was your apartment, you’d managed to clear enough floor space for both you and Seonghwa to coexist comfortably for as long as it took for you to get his measurements. It would be happening a lot faster if your model could just keep still for longer than five seconds.

“Then what’s the issue?”

You stand up and stare into his eyes. Seonghwa’s tongue darts out against his lip – his nervous habit, you’ve realised. There seems to be a debate happening inside of his head, but when nothing comes of it, you sigh and take a step back.

“Maybe we need a snack break,” you suggest, weaving your way to your kitchenette and pulling out an old biscuit tin which rattles happily with baked goods. Seonghwa follows the path you took and stands nearby.

“I, um… I thought your apartment would be neater,” he confesses. “You know, considering how you are at work.”

“It would be neater if I had more time and energy.” You take a cookie out of the tin before offering it to your guest; at first, he hesitates but he does stick his hand in eventually. “I use up all my physical resources doing things for Isabel that by the time I get home… I have nothing left to give.”

You do wish that your living space was neater: looking at the piles of fabric and patterns, a laundry basket that’s never found its way back to your bathroom, clean dishes that still haven’t been packed in their rightful homes.

“OK, that’s understandable,” Seonghwa says, still nibbling on his snack. “I live with other people so we can share the load.”

The two of you get lost in thought until he breaks the quiet again.

“Did you get the photo I sent you? Of the jewellery piece that I want to wear?”

You nod; you spent a great deal of time looking at it since he sent it, wanting to really highlight it regardless of what clothes you ended up putting the model in.

“Have you asked yet? About having my pieces in a show?”

He shakes his head, causing his hair to bounce.

“Not yet. But why don’t you do it? I’m sure she’d say yes to you.”

The grip you have on your biscuit tin tightens ever so slightly but Seonghwa doesn’t see it.

“She’s still upset with me about your haircut so I don’t think she’ll be taking requests from me any time soon.”

“But that was two months ago now!” He huffs; disbelief written all over his face. “Surely she can’t still be upset about something you had no say in.”

“Tell me about it.”

After taking one last cookie out, you pack the tin away before gesturing for Seonghwa to come with you back into your lounge where the measuring tape and notebook await you. He stands practically in the same spot he was in before the break and takes a deep breath, vowing to not squirm so much this time. You get back to it, measuring and jotting down the numbers.

“Lift your arms,” you tell him and he obliges, letting you easily slip the measuring tape behind his back only to then pull it tight across his chest. He feels exceptionally warm under your touch, even through his clothes.

“Are you ok?” You ask, one hand still against his chest. “You’re… hot.”

Seonghwa clears his throat as he blinks over and over, eventually averting his gaze to stare at your apartment wall, rather than look at you.

“Did I just fluster you?” You laugh, watching as the skin on his neck starts to turn red. “Did I just make the Park Seonghwa blush?”

“Shut up,” he mumbles and you know that his heart isn’t in his words.

“Oh, this is a day to remember,” you continue to tease as you write more into your notebook before slipping the tape down to his waist. “You’ll be hearing me talk about this at your wedding.”

You’re focusing again so you’re not sure you him properly, his voice soft as a breeze when he says:

“I hope that I do.”

Another two month of sewing and fitting sessions later, you feel confident that you have an outfit that will not only match the statement piece it was designed around, but also show off your skills as a designer while still being similar enough to Isabel’s that she’d had a hard time saying no so it being a part of her collection. Seonghwa had been patient throughout the whole ordeal, regardless of how many times you asked him to try something on, only for you to change it and need him to try it on again. He even brought around his roommates the one day to help you tidy up a little bit in your apartment stating that, “It’s easier with more people, right?” The pleased smile he had given you had made it impossible to say no.

On top of that, you continued your work under Isabel – running errands, booking meetings, picking up the coffee. You were finally starting to feel that things between her and you had gone back to normal and that made you excited to go into the studio again.

As you stood in the material shop, you fiddled with your keys, the little Lego man constantly ending up between your fingers. You could confidently say that Seonghwa was now your friend, a close friend even. All the time the two of you had spent together had brought you closer than you ever thought you could be with him – it was second nature to go and hug him when you saw him in the studio, or to go for walks with him once the day was over. He would ramble about his newest Lego build, or what new series he was watching, and you’d let him go on for ages. In turn, he listened when you prattled on about something that had happened in your day, or the annoying people you’d had to deal with.

“I’m not annoying, am I” He’d asked you one day, leading you through the park.

“Only when you don’t listen to me,” you’d joked, which then led to him chasing you down the footpath and wrapping his arms around you when he finally caught up.

“I always listen to you, that’s why I’m your favourite model to work with.”

Your trip down memory lane is interrupted as one of the retail workers hands over the cut of fabric that Isabel had ordered and you thank them before heading back to the boss.

What you don’t expect to see when you get there, is Seonghwa coming out of Isabel’s office. When you try and say hello, he avoids your eyes and mumbles a quick ‘hi,’ before disappearing out of the front door. By the time you call out again, it’s too late – he’s already gone. You shake off how weird that was, entering into Isabel’s office.

“Did you get what I asked for?” She queries before the door has even closed behind you.

“Yes, it’s all here.” You put down the fabric, as well as the other items you’d been sent to collect. “Is everything ok with Seonghwa?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps, causing your stomach to drop. “Don’t interfere with the models, they’re not your concern.”

You take a deep breath, holding back your emotions.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen in the future.”

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Isabel moves swiftly along although her words are clipped and direct.

You’ve messed up again, and this time it truly is your fault.

Not only is Isabel being off with you, but so is Seonghwa, and it’s driving you mad. Whenever you enter the same room as him and try to talk to him like you’re used to doing, he gets awkward and barely says a word to you. You ask about meeting up after work and there’s always an excuse: I’m really tired today, my roommates and I are cleaning, I have plans with someone else.

Even worse, when you ask about if Seonghwa has spoken to Isabel about your agreement, he answers without really answering. He says that they’ve talked about it. That they came to a decision. But when you ask what the decision is, he doesn’t say anything, even though you’d given him your pieces to show Isabel in person. To add insult to injury, you’d organised for Isabel to meet with the creator of the jewellery brand that Seonghwa had shown you, and Isabel had even approved using some of their work in her next show – you knew that Seonghwa was going to be wearing the piece that he wanted because he got first pick. You’d kept your side of the bargain, yet you had no idea if he’d kept his.

As the days leading up to the next fashion show roll around, you bury yourself in keeping busy and keeping invisible. Numerous jobs pile up but you take them all, sacrificing sleep and meals in order to get it all done in time. Anything to stop you from thinking too hard about how your whole life feels as though it’s been thrown off kilter; anything to stop yourself from thinking that you should’ve stuck to your original plan when you went with Seonghwa. Not make friends, not have fun: work only. If only you’d stuck to that then you wouldn’t have befriended him, then things wouldn’t be weird between you and Isabel, and things wouldn’t be weird between you and Seonghwa.

If only he hadn’t forced you to go to the Lego shop with him because every time you looked at your keychain, your heart aches.

“Fifteen minutes!”

There’s nothing left for you to do. Even Isabel has told you so. There’s a quiet corner, away from everyone and out of their way, and that’s where you’ve put yourself. Thankfully, there’s still enough happening around you for your own thoughts not to take over - watching the models get their final touch-ups, the crew making sure all the equipment is in place. This should feel like home for you and yet your heart can’t help but constrict in your chest.

A group of model moves to stand in your line of sight and if sensing that you’re nearby, one of them looks in your direction.

Seonghwa looks beautiful, but then again, when doesn’t he? With his hair almost back to its old length, the subtle make-up and the necklace that he’d wanted to model for so long now, he was a walking dream. But as your eyes scanned over his body you realised why he’d been acting the way he had been towards you. Not a single item was yours. Everything on him was Isabel’s design and make – your clothes wouldn’t see the runway.

He breaks away from the group and comes to stand by you. For once, you wish that you really were invisible as you feel tears well in your eyes. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t have phased you so much, but the exhaustion from not only working so hard but also the emotional distress you’d put yourself under was starting to surface.

“I’m sorry,” he says, swallowing at the lump in his throat. “I tried to get her to use one of your pieces but… She was adamant. And I didn’t know how to tell you…”

“It’s fine.” Your voice breaks and you hate yourself for it. “At least Isabel’s star got what he wanted… At least one of us wins.”

It’s a little cruel, even you know that but you can’t stop yourself.

“I guess that I was right then,” you continue, furiously wiping the stray tears that have started to run down your cheeks. “You are the favourite. She can do just fine without me, no matter what she said to you. And that’s ok. I’m just the assistant, I’m the nobody.”

Seonghwa is about to reach out to you when one of the crew call his name.

“We need you in line!”

When he looks back, you’re already walking away, and everything that he wanted to say dies on his tongue.

Never once since you started working for Isabel have you taken so much time off. Of course, there’d been the odd sick day or your off day with… him. But a full week that you took off of your own volition? Unheard of.

And yet there you were, finally sorting through the mess that your apartment had become during your time hiding from your feelings. You were well aware that you were just doing a different kind of hiding now but it didn’t stop you – you wanted to be away from both of them. No, you needed to be away from them. This was the only way that you were sure you could do that and the catharsis of throwing away useless things was starting to help you feel better already. You worked without stopping the whole morning, right until you could hear your stomach growling. Deciding that a break would be good, you pick up your phone to order something for yourself. What you don’t expect to see are the myriad of messages stacked one on top of the other.

‘I’m sorry, can we please talk?’

‘Are you coming in today?’

‘When will you be back? I really want to talk to you about everything.’

‘I understand that you’re angry with me, you have every right to be.’

‘Please just let me know that you’re ok.’

‘Isabel said that you took the week off. Can I come round later today?’

It looks like there’s a thousand more, all of the same calibre. You steel yourself and type one reply back to Seonghwa, whereafter you mute his chat.

‘We can talk when I’m back. I’ll be busy this week. Keep well.’

It’s day five of your break when someone knocks at your door, and you peel yourself away from your sewing machine in order to chase away whoever is on the other side. However, you don’t expect to find a delivery man, saying that he has a parcel for you and that you need to sign to say that you’ve received it.

“But I didn’t buy anything…” You tell him, thinking that there’s been a mistake.

“The description says it’s a gift, so I think someone got it for you,” he says, shoving the box into your arms. “Sign here please.”

You manage to do as he asks, turning inside and shutting the door behind you once he goes. Confusion and curiosity are flooding your veins as you sit on your couch and tear the package open with a pair of scissors. The first thing that catches your attention is a white envelope with your name on it; you take it out and set it aside for now. You take the next thing out of the box…

It's a Lego set. The picture on the outside shows you that it’s going to be a bouquet of red roses once it’s been built. You know immediately who this is from, and you decide to open the letter.

‘Before I say anything else, I have to tell you again that I’m sorry. I know that I could say it a thousand times over and it still wouldn’t be enough, but I have to try. And I know as well that maybe I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I will continue to ask for it until you tell me to stop. I made a promise to you, we made a promise together and I let you down in a way that was cruel and unfair, especially since you held up your side of the deal and it allowed me to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.

Even so, every step I took on that runway was ridden with guilt. I hated it. I’ve never hated being a model before but that night I learnt that anything you love can be tainted by your own stupid actions.

I know that to you I’m just your friend but to me you’re so much more. You’re someone I’ve come to admire: your quiet strength, your willingness to always do what needs to be done, your talent not only at designing but being able to lift me up when I feel at my lowest. To be frank, I’m hopelessly in love with you. No one I ever meet in my life from this point forward will ever compare to you.

I don’t expect you to return these feelings. The fact that I’m even telling you, even more so after what’s happened, is absurd. Even if nothing comes of this, I hope and pray that we can at least remain friends, if you’ll have me.

Sending all my heart

Your star,

Seonghwa.’

The last few rays of sunshine are still visible above the horizon when Seonghwa steps out of Isabel’s studio. He’s been completely out of his mind since sending the gift to you; so much so that everyone around him has told him that he’s not himself. He knows it, he feels it. Every fibre of his being is screaming at him to do something more about the state he’s in and yet, his head wins the fight every time. Seonghwa feels that he already crossed a line by sending you the gift and the letter, after you said you’d talk to him when you got back. He doesn’t want to ruin any sliver of a chance he might now have left by being even more of an idiot.

A deep and heartful sigh escapes the model’s lips as he closes the door behind him, ready to hail a taxi and return home to wallow. The sight in front of him stops him dead in his tracks. For a second, he contemplates pinching himself to make sure that he’s not dreaming.

“Hi,” you say, unsure of how he’ll react to you being there. “Do you have time to talk?”

Loosing all composure, Seonghwa rushes towards you and pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around you so tightly that you gasp for air. Despite how bone-crushing it is, you put your arms around him too and enjoy the calm that washes over you. You’ve missed him. The feeling of Seonghwa’s chest rising and falling erratically is the only way you know that he’s crying. You stay like that for some time, offering a comfort to each other that you’d both severely been lacking but had been too stubborn to admit all this time.

When you feel it’s right, you pull away but you don’t go too far.

“Can we go for a walk?” You ask softly, almost afraid that any noise too loud might frighten him away.

Seonghwa nods and he lets you take his hand, and lead the way forward.

“I don’t think I can completely forgive you just yet.”

The pair of you have already walked a full block in complete silence, however there’s things that you need to get off of your chest.

“I understand,” Seonghwa answers. His voice is still filled with tears but they don’t spill over anymore.

“But I think that with time,” you continue. “I’ll be able to get there.”

“I can wait as long as you need.”

The sun has fully set. Way out in the sky in front of you, you can see the first flicker of a star; a singular bright light in the midst of the darkness. You turn your head to look at Seonghwa. He really is your star; he’s your flicker of light in the darkness that you’d found yourself in. you don’t want that light to disappear.

“Can I ask a favour of you?”

He immediately stops walking and faces you.

“Of course, anything you ask.”

“I need help,” you admit, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Those roses you sent to me look really complicated to build and I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

“Really?” Seonghwa finally breaks into a smile, albeit a small one. “You want me to build it with you?”

“Well, you seem to have a lot of experience from what you’ve told me. And the last time I built Lego’s I was probably… I don’t know, eleven, so I’m a little out of practice.”

The small smile grows into a bigger one and there’s life in his eyes again.

“Of course I’ll help.”

Your heart sweels as your star beams before your eyes.

It takes time and it’s slow at first. Everyday you’re a fraction closer to letting the whole thing go. In hindsight, you know that your emotions are what turned the whole situation into a bigger ordeal than what it probably was and you know that there will come a time when you will get your turn in the spotlight. Your designs will see a runway, even if it’s not today.

In the meantime, you and Seonghwa spend more time together. At the studio, when you aren’t running around, you gravitate towards him without thought. He brings you snacks throughout the day to make sure that you’ve got enough stamina to keep going. Short walks after work, going to café’s during your breaks, even going to his apartment to see the holy Lego builds collection – for which his roommates had given him complete hell for.

After a month and a half of working through your feelings, you know you’re ready for the next step.

“I still can’t belief that you haven’t built it yet!”

Across your dining room table, which is normally used for cutting patterns, is an assortment of containers holding little plastic bricks.

“I just got busy. And so did you!”

You and Seonghwa sit side by side. He has the instructions laid out between the two of you and the almost-finished bouquet sits a little awkwardly in front of you. The building of the roses had basically become a process where Seonghwa would find the right piece, hand it to you, tell where to put it, and you’d do as he said. It was surprisingly fun.

“You could’ve built it on your own,” he states, handing you another block. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I know but the point was that we built it together.” You click the brick into place, the sound satisfying to your ear. “I wanted to build it with you.”

The model locates the next one and hands it to you, pointing where it must go.

“That sounds… almost like… Never mind.” He stares intently at the instruction booklet, licking his bottom lip.

“Like what?” You prompt, watching as he avoids your gaze. “Like a date?”

You have to hold back your smile as he stutters and coughs – a complete departure from who he is on the runway. He mutters something about how you’re the one that said it, not him.

“Seonghwa.” You put your hand on his and he finally falls quiet. “Would it be so bad if it was a date?”

You think that maybe you’ve overstepped when there’s no reaction from him. Very quickly though you’re proven wrong as Seonghwa lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and your heart starts to beat faster.

“A Lego date with you is literally a dream come true,” he manages to say, a shy smile appearing on his face.

It’s now your turn to be a bumbling mess as you hide behind your free hand, listening to how he laughs at your behaviour.

“Hey, don’t hide your pretty face from me now!” Seonghwa teases.

“You’re the pretty one,” you mumble. “You’re literally a model.”

With some gentle coaxing, Seonghwa manages to take both of your hands in his own.

“Maybe.” He tells you, leaning ever closer. “But I’m also your star, don’t forget that.”

The space between you closes and he kisses you.

It was no secret within the studio that you and Seonghwa were now an item – your boyfriend having announced it to everyone the day after the Lego date had made it hard to keep it under wraps. Although you couldn’t deny the sheer joy you felt walking through the door hand in hand with him when you got the chance. With another show looming around the corner, time was scarce to spend with him, so any spare second when you were not running around like a headless chicken, and when Seonghwa wasn’t being fitted for a new outfit, the pair of you would take that precious time and just be with each other. Those around seemed to not mind considering who the two of you were to the studio. Everyone, except one.

Though you were tired, you drag yourself into Isabel’s office, coffees in hand. Your boss was sat in silence, not even greeting you as you come in.

“Good morning,” you initiate the conversation.

Isabel hums ‘hello’ taking the coffee as soon as you set it down on her desk; her attention is on the array of papers in front of her and she gives you no thanks for your efforts.

Your relationship with her had been weighing on you heavily for a while and the thought of continuing in such an undefined way was starting to take its toll on you.

Enough was enough.

“Isabel, we please need to talk.”

“Can it wait? I’m very focused here…”

“No, it can’t.”

You surprise not only your boss but also yourself with how steadfast you are. Isabel finally looks up from her work – her gaze is scrutinizing. You take a deep breath.

“I don’t know exactly what it is that I’ve done but I don’t deserve to be treated like this,” you state, standing up a little taller. “If it’s about what happened with Seonghwa and him asking to model my pieces, it’s water under the bridge to me, even though I’d still like to know the reason why you said no.”

Isabel doesn’t say a word, so you take your cue to continue.

“If it’s about what happened with Hanna and Seonghwa’s hair, then I truly am not sorry. Respectfully, at the end of the day, it was his choice whether to follow through with it or not, and he, being an amazing model, did what he thought was right. I know you sent me to make sure that your star was treated well, and he was. But that was not something I could stop.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you make your final point.

“But more than any of those, I deserve to be seen by you. I work like a dog on your behalf because I love fashion and I love design. But you never let me know when my efforts are appreciated. Perhaps you’ve told them to other people but it means nothing if I will never hear it directly from you. If you feel that I’m too outspoken now, then after the upcoming show I’ll put in my resignation letter. I don’t want to be a ghost anymore.”

You can feel your legs shaking as you stand but your heart feels a thousand times lighter now that it’s all out of your system.

Isabel places her coffee cup on the desk.

“It’s not that your designs weren’t good enough to be on the runway,” she says, voice even. “They were very good. Excellent even. They deserved their own show, or at least their own moment to shine.

“I just… you tailored him so well. I…” Isabel pauses, wrestling with her own words. “I must now admit that I was jealous of your work. I felt that because he was my Star, I would know him the best. But then here you came, with an eye for something that I couldn’t see. It’s as though you were made to design for him.”

As her words wash over you, it doesn’t feel like real life; tears even prick at your eyes. How could the Isabel Silvain have been jealous over you? You were just her…

“And I’m sorry,” Isabel continues, now standing up too to look you properly in the eye. “For how I’ve been treating you. Both recently and in the past. I know that I’ve never told you but I wouldn’t survive without you. You do the work of ten people and you’ve never once complained or told me that you couldn’t do something. That week that you took off, I nearly fell apart.”

She laughs but you can just make out that she too is crying.

“I’ve been trying to avoid admitting to you that I need you more than you need me,” Isabel says with a shaky voice. “I am truly, deeply sorry.”

Hastily, you try to brush away the tears on your cheeks as you tell her ‘Thank you’. Isabel makes her way around her desk and stands next to you, her arms open. You embrace her and you both laugh and cry; finally putting to bed months and months of anguish.

“Seonghwa may be my Star,” she says. “But you are my Sun. Without you none of us would survive.”

It’s still slightly surreal to walk hand in hand with Seonghwa, especially as you arrive for the runway show. His hands always feel warm in yours and you wonder if he’s naturally like that or if he’s only like that when you’re around.

“Are you excited for tonight?” He asks, out of the blue.

“Not much for me to be excited about really,” you tell him. “Other than seeing you dressed up, of course. That’s always a treat.”

The faintest dusting of pink coats his nose and cheeks; his eyeline goes to his feet as he smiles. Making him flustered always boosts your ego.

“I’m… flattered.” Casually, Seonghwa lifts his hand, bringing yours with to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Tonight may bring some excitement after all. You just never know.”

The pair of you walk through the backstage door and immediately the feeling of restlessness that you’ve come to know so well hits you.

You turn to face Seonghwa, still hand in hand.

“I doubt it.” You lean in and kiss him properly on the lips. “Good luck out there. Not that you really need it but at least it makes me feel like I’m helping.”

“It helps a lot, I promise.” He swiftly pecks your lips as he steals another kiss. “And good luck to you too.”

You roll your eyes playfully at him.

“I’m not the one going on the runway, you dork.”

Seonghwa smiles sheepishly before saying his goodbyes to you, saying that he’ll see you later.

“Fifteen minutes!”

People swiftly move past you, some giving you a curt nod of the head which takes you by surprise. This was normally when you’d be completely in visible to everyone. Suddenly, people were taking notice of you.

“My sunshine!” Isabel’s voice breaks through the noise. “I’ve been looking for you!”

You hastily make your way to her, hoping beyond all hopes that you haven’t forgotten anything for today.

"You’re watching the show from the front today,” she informs you, a wide smile on her face. “I think it’s time you got to see the results of all your hard work.”

You freeze where you stand. Never have you ever watched a show from the front – you’re always backstage, just in case something goes wrong or Isabel needs you. She must be able to see how you’re fighting yourself about this.

“Everything will be ok,” Isabel says, taking you by the arm. “Today you can relax.”

“Um… ok. But I need to tell…”

“He already knows.”

She smiles coyly before leading you away from the chaos you’re used to, and out through a side door into the audience. Your boss guides you to a seat right near the end of the catwalk, in the very front row. There’s a ‘reserved’ sign with your name on it and you wonder how long she’s been planning this little stunt. How long has Seonghwa known too?

Once you’re comfortably seated, Isabel disappears backstage again.

You feel out of place here. There’s people that you’ve only ever heard of around you – fashion critics, magazine reporters, other designers. You spot Hanna in the crowd and she gives you a friendly wave which you eagerly reciprocate.

The lights start to dim and the room falls quiet. You target your eyes on where you know the models will enter from as a voice over the speaker welcomes you all to the event. The music kicks in and the show starts.

Surprisingly, you find yourself relaxing as model after model comes out – you note the outfits that you’d seen sketches of, or material that you had to collect. It’s as though you enter a trance watching piece after piece come out, the models having their turn to walk before disappearing backstage again. This is your happy place. You can feel your passion for the art burning inside of your chest. This is why you wanted to design, to create. You’re so lost in your own happy thoughts that you don’t realise how quickly the time is going by. It’s only when your see your boyfriend step out under the stage lights that you come to.

Seonghwa takes your breath away, like he always does when he models. His face is set, sharp features beautifully highlighted. But what makes your heart stop from shock is when you realise what he’s wearing. It’s not Isabel’s work. None of the pieces are.

It’s yours.

The outfit that you had painstaking designed and made for him, and him alone, is on the runway in front of your very eyes. He even has the necklace that you designed the piece for hanging around his neck. Seonghwa looks perfect; the outfit looks perfect.

Your star continues to walk, stopping right in front of you but never looking at you, like the professional he is. But for the briefest of moments before he turns around, his eyes lock with yours. You can’t hold back as happy tears quietly slip down your cheeks. Seonghwa walks away and disappears backstage.

You waste no time once the show is over, fighting against the sea of people to get to behind the scenes. Once you make it, the hustle and bustle of people starting to undo all their hard work is barely a concern to you as you look around, searching for one face among the many. You spot Isabel first though and you realise that you have a million questions that you want to ask her. Forcing your way to her, she hugs you upon seeing you.

“Surprise, my sunshine!” She says with a laugh. “What did you think? Did you enjoy the show?”

You start to laugh as well, still feeling a little overwhelmed by emotion.

“Why?”

Out of all the thoughts running through your head, it’s the only one that makes sense to ask.

Isabel holds you at arm’s length, making sure that she can see you properly. You can see pride in her eyes.

“Because I wanted to show you how thankful I am to you. That I see you and everything that you do. You are not invisible to me. And now you won’t be invisible to anyone else either.”

It can’t be stopped as more happy tears escape your eyes. This was more than you could’ve ever expected.

“You should definitely thank your Star though,” she tells you, her gaze going over your shoulder. “He was the one who suggested it.”

You follow her eyeline; turning to see the person you’d been searching for.

Seonghwa is quick to catch you as you practically throw yourself into his arms. It feels so natural to be with him, against him – the world around you fades to nothing as you hold each other.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to keep my promise,” he tells you, kissing the top of your head. “I hope that it was worth it though.”

You squeeze your arms tighter around him and he does the same. When you feel like you can’t hold him any tighter, you let go only to press your lips against his. He smiles ever to subtly as you do.

“Did you ask Isabel to do this?”

You haven’t moved that far away from him; you don’t think you ever want to.

“I suggested it as a way to show her appreciation for you.” He sounds a little bit smug but you couldn’t care less right now.

You kiss him again and he lifts you off of your feet, your body soaring as much as your heart is.

“I think I love you,” you confess when your finally touch ground again. “No, scratch that. I do love you. I love you so much, my Star.”

You both giggle like school children at the confession but it feels so right.

“I love you too, my Sunshine,” he tells you, resting his forehead against yours. “More than you could possibly know.”

#this fic was not meant to be this long gosh dang it #but here we are!#park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa fanfic #park seonghwa fluff #Miss Maniac's Writing #Seonghwa

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